


Her

by CJ aka WritinginCT (WritinginCT), WritinginCT



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Binding magic, Canon Divergent, Character Study, Drama, F/M, First Time, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-30 13:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13952097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritinginCT/pseuds/CJ%20aka%20WritinginCT, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritinginCT/pseuds/WritinginCT
Summary: A spell gone wrong leaves Professor and Student with an unexpected pregnancy.  While working together to bind it with old, earthy magic to halt it until after Voldemort’s defeat, there’s a shift in their relationship and a growing mutual respect and affection emerges that has nothing to do with the baby they share.





	1. Prologue - Summer before Order of the Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> Story Notes: Set at the beginning (October) of Order of the Phoenix (Hermione is 16, Snape 35), no under-age sex (17 in the HP universe). 
> 
> Fanart Notes: I adore Alan Rickman but I have a very hard time getting past his actual age when it comes to fanart and visualizing smut. I mentally recast Snape as Richard Armitage in my own headcanon a long time and decided to use him in my HG/SS fanart. ~CJ
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the recognizable characters I’m just inspired by them. Hopefully they’ve had fun playing in my sandbox.

 

_Grimmauld Place - August 1995_

Hermione had her nose in a book as she entered the kitchen. It was late, nearing midnight, and the house was quiet. She moved quietly across the room and managed to fill the kettle and put in on the burner all without looking up from her book.

She was so engrossed that she failed to see the man sitting at the end of the table in the kitchen.

A gentle clearing of his throat made her freeze and look around slowly. “Professor Snape, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“Obviously,” he replied dryly but without any particular snideness.

He was apparently waiting for some other member of the Order to arrive, there had been a lot of late night comings and goings since she had started staying at headquarters. She noticed that he had nothing in front of him. No one had offered him tea or a drink. Given what she knew he was doing for the order and the constant danger he was in that just didn’t seem right, and downright rude even.

She gestured towards the kettle. “Would you like some tea, sir?”

\-----

Snape regarded her for a long uncomfortable moment. Her reception was by far the most considerate he’d received since the Order started using Grimmauld Place as its headquarters.

Politely he replied, as there no need to be rude in the face of _her_ consideration, “Yes, thank you, Miss Granger.”

She gave him a nervous sort of grin in response and she took two teacups out of the cupboard with her free hand, her other still occupied by her book.

He had seen plants of some sort on the cover of the book she was reading and he asked out of idle curiosity, “May I ask what you are reading?”

“Oh, it was a gift from my father. It’s a guide to natural medicinal plants in Britain. It’s a… Muggle book, sir.”

“May I?” he asked as he held out his hand. Oddly pleased when she didn’t hesitate to hand it to him.

\-----

Hermione was trying not to be flustered over the fact that _he_ seemed to be genuinely interested in what she was reading and his polished manners. This was so out of sorts with how he was at Hogwarts. She handed him the book. She was surprised when he carefully kept one of his fingers marking her page as he perused other sections of the book. It was uncommonly courteous thing to do, too often people lost her place in books and she found it frustrating.

While he browsed through the book she fixed the tea and she asked, “How do you take your tea, sir?”

He looked at her over the book and blinked, apparently having been engrossed in some passage. He lowered the book, still marking her place and said, “One sugar, no milk, thank you.”

She babbled as she fetched the sugar and doctored their tea. “My father loves natural medicine. He’s always sending me books and articles he finds particularly interesting.”

He asked, completely devoid of his normal patented sneer in his voice, “As I recall, your parents are Muggle healers of some sort?”

She turned and placed his cup in front of him. She nodded. “They are dentists, um… they tend to people’s teeth.”

\-----

Snape looked at the cover of the book, committing it to memory, and handed it back to her making sure she didn’t lose her place in the transfer.

“That appears to be a fairly comprehensive volume on the topic. And for the record, Miss Granger, I am aware of what a dentist is.”

She swallowed hard, thinking she had inadvertently offended him. “Of course, sir, I didn’t mean to imply that you… I’m just so used to having to explain it to everyone I say it automatically now.”

He nodded once in acknowledgment and sipped his tea, noting that it was doctored to perfection.

They were sitting quietly for several minutes when Snape’s stomach growled loudly.

He froze in mortification and Hermione instinctively channeled Molly Weasley.

“Have you not eaten, Professor? We had a wonderful chicken stew for dinner. I’ll heat some for you.”

He was about to tell her not to bother when his stomach made another obnoxious noise.

Without letting him say yay or nay, she jumped up and held out her book to him to free up her hands. He took it knowing she wouldn’t want to put it face down and break its spine.

\-----

Hermione was a bit floored that everyone seemed to treat Professor Snape with such casual disregard for even the most basic of manners. He had been waiting there for who knows how long. And who knew how long it had been since he had last eaten given his work for the Order.

She dished out a large portion of stew and heated it on the stove. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Snape leafing through the book again. When the stew was hot she ladled it out into a bowl and prepared a small plate of bread and butter and plunked it all down in front of the Professor.

He looked at it all in surprise for a moment. He met her eyes and handed her back her book.

“Thank you, Miss Granger.”

“You’re welcome, Professor. Can I get you anything else?”

He shook his head.

“Okay. It’s getting late, I’m going go read for a bit more before bed. Good night, sir.”

She had reached the doorway of the kitchen when he called out, “Miss Granger?”

“Professor?” she asked as she turned.

“In these times, such as they are, being as distracted as you were when you first entered this room isn’t prudent.”

She held his gaze a moment as she mulled his words. “You’re absolutely right, Professor, I’ll be more aware of my surroundings in the future.”

He nodded once and she left.

\-----

Snape lifted the soup spoon she had so genteelly placed on a napkin next to his bowl and tried to put some perspective on the whole encounter. As he ate thought of how different she was now compared to when she first arrived at Hogwarts. She had grown from an awkward pre-pubescent into a confident young woman. She was still an insufferable little know it all, but given the quality of her schoolwork and the innumerable hours he saw her studying around the castle he could almost not begrudge her that. It surprised him to realize that he held a sincere hope that she survived this war.

He dug into the food, almost letting a little sigh of pleasure escape his lips, it had been a _long_ time since he last ate at breakfast.

\-----

“Snape never eats here,” came out of Ron’s mouth as he shared with Harry and Hermione rolled her eyes. She hadn’t told anyone about her encounter with the Professor in the kitchen last week. It felt private somehow, something she wanted to keep to herself, for herself. She had seen the genuine look of gratitude in Snape’s eyes when she had put the food in front of him. It was only a flash that she caught before he hid it behind the cool mask he always wore, but it made _him_ human to her, a real person behind the terrifying visage he always presented to the world. His manners had also surprised her, the pleases and thank yous had come from his mouth without hesitation or snideness.

She could not imagine how difficult his life must be, to be a spy for the Order, the constant danger he was in, the loathing so publicly thrown at him. She knew they were all in danger, but at least she and the others had friends and family to support one another. She wondered who Snape had in his life to turn to, it made her sad to think that the answer to that was probably no one. She had decided that if nothing else, that she would be polite and courteous to the surly professor going forward.


	2. September - Fifth Year

_Start of term_

The sorting was done and the feast appeared to everyone’s delight. Hermione looked up to the head table and saw Professor Snape sitting next to Professor McGonagall and some odd pink-clad woman she didn’t recognize. Her attention went back to Professor Snape and was surprised to find him looking directly at her. She didn’t smile, nor he, obviously, but there seemed to be a silent acknowledgment of her presence, that _he_ saw her and she him.

Her attention was drawn away by her fellow Gryffindors and the moment was broken.

\-----

_Two weeks later_

“What on earth are you doing?” Hermione demanded when she came upon the cluster of giggling girls around a bubbling cauldron in an unused classroom.

“Its none of your business, Granger,” snapped the older Slytherin girl who seemed to be the group’s designated potion master. She dumped in some more ingredients and gave the pot a stir.

Hermione didn’t like the look of the ingredients they were playing with. Some of them had the potential to be deadly if used improperly in potion making. And the slapdash way the older girl was throwing things in the cauldron wasn’t instilling a lot of confidence.

“I’m a prefect and I’m telling you to stop. Those ingredients are dangerous. You need to stop what you’re doing right now before something explodes.”

When they ignored her completely she turned on her heel and went to find the closest professor she could find. She only hoped she could find someone before the idiot girls blew themselves up.

“Good riddance,” one of the Slytherin girls snorted.

Another asked the potion brewer, “So this birth control potion is really good for a year?”

“Yeah. My cousin taught me how to make it. Should make our year a little easier.”

\-----

Hermione groaned. The first teacher she would come upon would be Professor Snape. While her opinion of him had softened a quite bit over the summer, he was still a very intimidating figure and not necessarily her first choice to assist her. But then again, given what the girls were doing he might be the best person to assist her.

She yelled his name and he stopped walking and turned towards her, his ever present black cloak swirling about him. Waiting.

She hurried to him, completely out of breath.

He raised his eyebrow and said coldly, “Miss Granger?”

She tried to get oxygen to her lungs as she blurted out, “They’re brewing a potion and I can’t get them to stop…,” she then rambled off a list of the ingredients she had seen.

Hermione would swear that he actually blanched a little at the list. It had the potential to be exceptionally explosive.

Without hesitation he put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around to face the way she had just come from. With more than a hint of urgency in his voice he commanded, “Show me.”

\-----

Snape and Hermione reached the classroom just as the girls were all running out screaming, a thick, acrid smoke billowing from the cauldron.

Snape took one look at the mess and threw himself in front of Hermione, shielding her from the blast wave of rogue magic and the cauldron shrapnel the best he could.

Both were knocked unconscious, Snape taking the brunt of the shrapnel damage.

\-----

Madame Pomfrey had carefully tended to them both.

Snape she had been able to heal relatively quickly, even with the extensive damage to his skin which was even now healing with her special poultices that were slowly drawing out the bits of metal and debris from his skin. He had woken first and had been staring at Hermione’s unmoving form in the next bed.

She didn’t have the physical damage that Snape had, but the wave of magic from the cauldron had affected her greatly, far more than he. She was still unconscious and was running a high fever and would seize at irregular intervals.

Over and over in his mind Snape went through the list of ingredients that Hermione had rattled off to him, trying to figure out what exactly had been in the cauldron, or more precisely what was _supposed_ to have been in the cauldron. The Slytherin girls involved were not being particularly forthcoming for Professor McGonagall and as soon as he was able to stand they would feel the biting edge of their Head of House’s anger.

He felt useless just lying there when he should be the one assisting Pomfrey in finding an antidote for the young woman lying one bed over. He went to move however, and his body reminded him that he had barely survived being blown up as the still healing cuts on his body screamed out in agony.

He had not mentioned it to Madame Pomfrey, nor would he ever, but he also wanted to know why exactly did his testicles ache like someone had given them the cruelest of squeezes in a vise? There had been no shrapnel damage in that area of his body, and regardless, none of the shrapnel pieces had been larger than a galleon so it made no sense. Needless to say, it did not improve his mood.

\-----

He woke with a start. He knew what potion those ridiculous girls were brewing… or _attempting_ to brew as the case may be.

He yelled and Pomfrey came running. He shared what he had concluded and she scurried off at his instruction to brew an antidote to the magic currently killing the young woman in the next bed.

He looked over at her, ignoring the pain his wounds caused. She was still running a high fever and hadn’t awoken, her seizures growing in intensity. She looked, frankly, awful, and though part of him knew it wasn’t his fault, he felt guilty that he hadn’t been able to protect her properly.

\-----

He was released from the hospital ward the next day and his wrath at the idiotic Slytherin girls in his house responsible for the explosion was a thing unleashed. The lost of points was a given, as much as it pained him to do it, and he gave the girls in question enough detention time so that they wouldn’t need to worry about contraceptive potions until at least spring.

The fourth night he was sitting quietly by Hermione’s bedside in the dim light of the infirmary when he heard the most annoying, “Hem, hem.” Dolores Umbridge was swishing towards him in her pink, fuzzy glory. The woman made his skin crawl and that was a feat given that he was regularly forced to endure being in the company of the Dark Lord and his happy band of mass murderers.

“Why, Professor Snape, what on earth are you doing here. This is hardly appropriate.”

He stood and drew himself up to his full height, towering over the little pink-clad toad. He enjoyed seeing her taking a small step backwards and blanch a little. “Why I am here is hardly your concern,” he replied coldly.

“This is unseemly. A male professor hovering about a young girl’s bed at night, and this isn’t even the first night you’ve done it according to my sources. She’s not even in your House, Professor. There is simply no excuse for this untoward behavior.”

Snape’s hand itched to reach for his wand to hex the pink harpy and was about to growl out some retort when Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall came down the row of beds.

Pomfrey immediately moved to check on Hermione and she said to Snape, “Thank you for sitting with her, Severus.”

“You condone this?” Umbridge asked haughtily.

Pomfrey was livid. “I had an emergency with two other students and we had just given her a new variant of treatment potion. She couldn’t be left alone and no one knows better what to look for in an adverse potion reaction than Professor Snape.”

“And the other nights he has sat here perched by her bed like a lecher?”

“That is enough, Professor Umbridge,” McGonagall said sternly, “You will not besmirch the reputation of this man in such a repugnant way when he has been working around the clock to find an antidote for Miss Granger despite his own injuries.”

Before anyone could spit out another word, Hermione had a small seizure. Without caring what the pompous Umbridge thought, Snape went to Hermione’s bedside, putting one hand on her forehead to check for fever as he laid two fingers on her jugular. She had no fever and her pulse was dead even and steady, he looked to Pomfrey and directed quickly, “The blue, Poppy, three drops.”

Pomfrey quickly unstopped the blue bottle and administered three drops of the tincture to Hermione’s tongue without hesitation. Her seizing stopped immediately.

He stood and watched as Pomfrey wiped Hermione’s face with a cool towel and smoothed her hair. He took a breath and put his calm veneer back in place as he said to Pomfrey. “I will adjust the antidote. I’ll be back with it as soon as possible.”

He turned towards the other two women. He gave McGonagall a little nod and Umbridge a cold dead stare before turning on his heel and striding out of the hospital ward.

He was incensed. He had been accused of many, many vile and despicable things in his life, more than a fair few of them true, but _never_ had anyone ever dared accuse him of improper sexual conduct with a student.

He reached his lab and stood in front of his cauldron. He was angry. He tried to still his thoughts and put them in perspective. Anger and potion making were two things that absolutely did not mesh well.

As he thought through the evening’s events, what he realized startled him. It wasn’t that he was livid over the idea of being accused of being a perverted lech lusting after his students, no rather, it was because Umbridge dared insinuate that he would take advantage of _her_ , Hermione Granger, the one woman in decades to treat him with even the most modicum amount of respect and decency, that turned his gut into a pit of fiery rage.

He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled slowly. He held it for a moment and let it out as he opened his eyes, allowing the exercise to calm his mind and dissipate unproductive emotions that could interfere with his work.

With a calm flick of his wand, he lit the fire under the cauldron and reached for the first ingredient.

\-----

His wounds had completely healed thanks to Pomfrey’s poultices, but he couldn’t explain the pull he had to the unconscious Miss Granger, an insufferable know it all of the highest order to be sure, and if he spent an inordinate amount of time sitting next to her unconscious form, no one save Umbridge dared mention it. Late into the night he would sit after Pomfrey had evicted Potter and Weasley back to their dormitory, sometimes with a book in hand, other times not. With each passing day that she didn’t wake he grew more surly.

On the sixth night he sat reading quietly as Pomfrey approached to do her final check before heading to bed herself. He watched her with clinical interest as she checked all of Miss Granger’s vital signs and ran some basic diagnostic spells. She finally smoothed down the blankets around Miss Granger and looking over, gave him a gentle smile.

“You could read to her,” she offered.

“What?” he asked with a little confusion.

“I said you could read to her. It helps sometimes. Gives them something to focus on.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt my voice would ever be particularly soothing to Miss Granger.”

Madame Pomfrey paused next to him. “You’d be surprised, Severus, you have a wonderful voice. Anyway, you should try and get some rest yourself. Don’t spend all night in this chair again.”

He nodded absently, completely intending to ignore her final instructions. There was something compelling him to be here. Something important, and he’d be damned if he knew what it was.

With a quick glance around to be sure they were alone he settled back into his chair and opened his book, an otherwise boring tome of advanced potion making that only someone like him would find interesting, and began to softly read aloud. He would have hexed anyone who overheard into oblivion, but a part of him hoped that Miss Granger heard him and would follow his voice back to the land of the living.

\-----

Hermione finally woke up late in the night of the seventh day.

The first person she saw was Snape and she smiled groggily.

He sent his patronus off to find Pomfrey and put down the book he had been reading out loud, this one on harvesting and preserving fire orchids for use in medicinal applications.

She tried to speak but her lips and mouth were parched. He quickly took a clean washcloth from the nightstand and wet part of it with a simple ” _Aguamenti_ ” and precise wave of his wand. He pressed it to her lips and let her suck a bit of the moisture off of it.

When she had finished she whispered, “What happened, Professor?”

With a raised eyebrow he said, “We are lucky those idiot girls did not blow up that entire wing of the castle.”

“I tried to tell them,” she said with a frown.

“Yes, you did. None of this is your fault, of which I have informed the Headmaster repeatedly.”

“Thank you,” she said and her eyes began to droop.

“Miss Granger, please stay awake until Madame Pomfrey arrives and assesses your condition.”

She nodded and tried to keep her eyes open. She tried to focus on him but her eyes really wanted to close. “I heard you reading. Fire orchids. I’ve never seen one, have you?”

“Yes,” he responded simply. Not telling her that he had several growing in his restricted area of the Hogwarts’ greenhouse. They were a powerful potion ingredient in the hands of a competent potion master. And though he’d never admit it, he simply liked looking at them, finding them to be a rare bit of beauty that captivated his attention.

She was definitely struggling to keep her eyes open and he demanded gently, trying to keep her awake, “Do you remember anything useful about fire orchids from my reading?”

She nodded sleepily. “Use a cleaver and not a knife to cut them, it’s cleaner and the weight of it will pinch off the petal’s capillaries as you cut so you lose none of the flower’s essence,” she recited hoarsely.

He blinked, his only tell that he was surprised. And surprised he was, that statement was not, in fact, something he had actually read from the book itself, rather it was an aside he had addressed to her after reading that the author recommended the use of a knife. _“Actually, Miss Granger, if you can hear me, ignore this buffoon, the use of a cleaver will produce far better and more predictable results. The weight of the cleaver will effectively pinch off the flower petal’s capillaries and prevent the loss of any of the flower’s essence.”_ He wondered why of all the words he had read to _her_ in a whisper over the past few nights had she latched on to those.

He broke from his musing thoughts seeing Pomfrey rushing towards them and replied softly, “Ten points to Gryffindor. Here is Madame Pomfrey.” He stood and stowed his book in one of the pockets of his cloak.

Hermione gave him a weak, sleepy smile, one he felt the strongest urge to return, he didn’t of course, that wasn’t who he was, but he did give her a gentle nod before Madame Pomfrey took over her attention.

\-----

The next morning when Hermione woke she blinked sleepily and then smiled as a single brilliant fire orchid in its plain greenhouse pot on her bedside table came into view. She watched the flame like movement of the orchid’s petals, mesmerized, and had an odd sense of safety and security wash over her as she thought back to the night before when Professor Snape had been the first person she saw when she woke from the darkness she had been drowning in.

He had so willingly thrown himself in front her to protect her from the explosion, he never hesitated. That much she remembered clearly before losing consciousness and falling into the darkness.

It had been _his_ voice in the dark that she felt pulled towards. It began as a murmur, like something so far away she couldn’t make it out. Then it grew closer but was still garbled. Finally she heard her name in his deep baritone and it was suddenly clear as crystal. She listened, absorbing what he was saying, clinging to his words like a lifeline. Abruptly he had stopped talking and she panicked in the dark and in the next heartbeat her eyes were open and he was just _there_ , solid and real and she knew she was going to be okay.

There was probably not another living soul who would understand her feelings, even she didn’t understand them fully. But feeling safe in the troubled times they lived in was a gift and she let herself drift back off to sleep immersed in it, an odd little smile on her face.

\-----

He was in his office, a stout cup of tea on the desk next to him. He was tired, sleep had been hard to come by during the past week. He also felt strong relief that Hermione had woken up last night, such an odd feeling really given that he had no ties to the young woman. And wasn’t that a kicker as well, she had become _Hermione_ in his thoughts, the _Miss Granger_ feeling far too cold and impersonal for the circumstances in his tired brain.

With a little crack a house elf appeared with a folded bit of parchment in hand. The little elf handed it to him and looked surprised when he said a polite, “Thank you.”

With a little bow the elf disapparated and he turned his attention to the parchment.

_“It’s beautiful, sir, thank you. For everything.”_

It wasn’t signed but there was no need as he recognized the penmanship immediately after reading four years worth of _her_ over achieving essays in the same precise handwriting.

He read it again and tucked it way carefully in the inner pocket of his frock coat.

He took a large sip of his tea, and tried tamp down the immense feeling of satisfaction that had oddly bloomed in his chest.

Snape put his tea down and went back to grading abysmal first-year essays.


	3. October - Fifth Year

_Mid October_

Hermione was quiet as she joined Harry and Ron at breakfast. She wasn’t feeling particularly well and chose to simply nibble on some toast with her tea instead of indulging on the other heavy breakfast offerings on the table.

She still wasn’t feeling well when she entered the potions classroom.

She got herself situated and ready for class though, just in time for Snape to come in and command all their attention in his normal take no prisoners way.

\-----

As he lectured Snape’s eyes looked over the students diligently taking notes. His eyes fell to Hermione and he observed that _she_ looked a little pale, _too pale_ , if he wanted to put a fine point on it.

It had been a month since the explosion, with the various potions she had been dosed with after the explosion he became concerned about unforeseen lingering after effects. He decided to hold her after class so he could speak with her.

\-----

Hermione read the potion instructions she had copied down carefully, comparing it to the instructions on the blackboard a final time just as she always did before beginning a new potion. Her stomach was swirling and she decided to go and see Madame Pomfrey after class, wondering if she perhaps had a touch of food poisoning.

She got up and went to the supply cupboard to get her ingredients. The cupboard had always had a strong, pungent odor, a mixture of chemicals and dead things, and while not pleasant by any means, Hermione had never been adversely affected by it before. But this time she had barely put her hand on her first ingredient when her stomach rebelled. She clapped her hand over her mouth and ran out of the cupboard.

She continued right out of the classroom and into the dark, cramped stairwell outside the potions classroom. She braced a hand on the cold stone wall and heaved right there in the corner. She vomited until she was sure she had been vomiting for hours. When the vomiting finally stopped and the dry heaves began she started to cry.

It only got worse when _his_ calm voice asked from behind her, “Miss Granger, are you alright?”

\-----

Snape had been on the other side of the classroom when Hermione made her flight out. The other students all started snickering and twittering over the event and he restored order with a simple barked, “Silence.”

He looked to a Slytherin boy, who did uninspired, but reliable work, and ordered, “See that no one blows themselves up.”

Without awaiting a response he strode out of the room.

He did not have to go far as he heard her retching in the hallway, the smell of vomit heavy in the air.

He heard _her_ crying in between rib bruising dry heaves. An ill Hermione he could deal with, a crying one was far out of his league. He pulled a handkerchief out of his frock coat pocket and extended it towards her as he asked not unkindly, “Miss Granger, are you alright?”

\-----

Hermione tried to take a calming breath and get her tears under control. She stood straight and let go of the wall. Turning towards Snape she saw the pristine white handkerchief he was offering and took it gratefully. She wiped her mouth and in mortification said, “I’m so sorry, sir.”

With a crisp wave of his wand the vomit disappeared and with another, the wretched odor of vomit was replaced with the soothing smell of spearmint.

“How long have you felt ill, Miss Granger?” he asked.

“Just this morning, sir, I was going to go see Madam Pomfrey after class. I thought I might have eaten something bad or have a touch of the flu, or something.”

“So not lingering effects from all the potions?”

“I don’t…,” she started to say and then had to turn back toward the wall and retch again.

She felt so awful and the vomiting was making her dizzy. She didn’t realize her legs were giving out until they did.

\-----

He saw her wilting and caught her before she fell. Without hesitation he swept her up and headed up the stairs towards the hospital wing. Thankfully the halls were empty with most students being in class at the time. Nor did he care to run into Umbridge and her puritanical indignation. All he cared about was getting _her_ to the healer.

\-----

Hermione knew that Snape was carrying her, that he held her firmly but gently and that he was all but running to get her the the hospital wing. She willed herself not to vomit all over him. She would rather die than do that. She still had his handkerchief in one hand and the other was fisted around the edge of his cloak.

She closed her eyes for a moment and realized that the same sense of safety and security she had felt weeks ago when she had first woken up was back. There was not a doubt in her mind that _he_ would take care of her.

\-----

Waiting for one of the damned moving staircases to swing back around he allowed himself a brief look down at the young woman he was carrying. She was still so very very pale and her eyes were closed. He saw her hand around his cloak and wondered what he had done to make _her_ trust him so.

The staircase ground into place and he quickly resumed his pace to get her Madame Pomfrey.

\-----

“Poppy!” he bellowed as he laid Hermione down on the nearest bed and disentangled her from his cloak.

Madame Pomfrey hurried over, Severus never being one to overreact to a medical need.

He explained calmly what happened and stepped back to allow the healer he trusted most to do her work.

After she ran some basic diagnostic tests, Pomfrey stepped over to Snape and politely asked, “Severus, if you would excuse us? I need to ask Miss Granger some forthright but sensitive questions and require privacy.”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation and went to the far side of the hospital wing to look out the window, far out of casual earshot of the women’s conversation.

Privacy that became a moot point when Hermione’s raised voice echoed in the empty hospital ward. “There is NO possible way I am pregnant. I don’t care what that spell says.”

He didn’t hear Pomfrey’s response to Hermione’s bombshell, but he did hear Hermione’s indignant reply in a near hysterical octave, “I’m telling you it’s just not possible. Whether you want to believe me or not, I’m a virgin. I’m not lying. There is just no feasible way I am pregnant.”

There were things he absolutely did not need to know about _her_ , things that he did not need to be swirling around his brain, things such as the status of her virginity. Or that she was pregnant.

His exceptionally quick mind did put together, however, that the virgin victim, and it never even occurred to him that she was lying about that, of an explosion involving a botched birth control potion was now, by all accounts, randomly, impossibly pregnant. Logically he thought it all through, start to finish- the blast wave of out of control magic hitting him first then her as he tried to shield her, her severe reaction to that magic in the aftermath, and lastly his inexplicable aching testicles after the explosion. His mind was painting a picture he did not like. Nor would anyone else for that matter. He cursed most foully in his mind.

\-----

Pomfrey gave Hermione a sleeping draught and something for her stomach and left her dozing on the bed. She approached Snape who was still on the far side of the room, looking out the window.

His entire body was tense, more than usual.

She stood along side him and asked, “I suppose you heard all that?”

“Indeed. I have a theory you are not going to like. I’ll share it but first you need to perform a _paternitas revelare_ spell and verify that I am indeed the father of Miss Granger’s child.”

“Severus! How could you?” Pomfrey exclaimed, completely scandalized.

He turned towards the healer. “Poppy, you have known me most of my life. Do you honestly think I would ever take advantage of a student?”

She sighed and replied, “No. No, you wouldn’t. I’m sorry for jumping to that conclusion.” She looked in him the eyes for a long moment and made the same connection he did. “You think this has something to do with the explosion.”

“I do. But we need the _paternitas revelare_ results to confirm.”

“I’ll need to get her permission, Severus.”

“I will speak to her when she awakens. Let’s keep this between us for the moment, Poppy.”

\-----

Hermione woke to find the hospital wing cast in dim shadows as it was well after ten o’clock at night.

She sat up slowly, her sides ached from vomiting and her mouth was parched and foul tasting.

A calm voice asked from the bedside chair, “Water?”

It was _him_ , and a sense of security enveloped her, the why of it still baffling her.

She nodded and looked towards him. He handed her a glass of cool water with a straw in it. “Small sips,” he cautioned.

She did just that and tried to wake herself up a little.

“Here,” he said and held out a small leaf to her, “Chew this, it’s spearmint. It will get rid of the foul taste in your mouth but not upset your stomach further.”

She took it gratefully, willing to do almost anything to be rid of the awful taste in her mouth.

She chewed it slowly, as the events of the day came crashing into her thoughts. She gasped.

Without looking at him she asked quietly, “Did you hear all of that this afternoon?”

“Most,” he answered honestly.

“It’s not possible. I’ve _never_ …,” she said with a hint of pride and steel in her voice and not shred of embarrassment that her remark was directed towards _him_.

“I believe you,” he replied simply.

She lifted her eyes to his, seeing that he wasn’t lying, he did believe her. A wave of relief washed over her that she could not explain, she had no idea why it was so important to her that _he_ of all people believed her about that. She nodded and looked back down at the water glass still in her hands.

He took a breath and offered, “I have working theory, one you will not like, do you wish to hear it?”

She looked up and nodded, “Yes, please, sir.”

In calm rational phrases he explained how he believed that the rogue magic in the explosion had been the cause.

When he was done he let her parse it all for a few minutes. She finally asked quietly, “So it was a contraceptive potion they were attempting?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s possible that it twisted somehow into _this_?” she asked, not knowing how to phrase the situation.

“Contraceptive and fertility potions typically contain all the same ingredients just combined in a different order to achieve the specific end results. They are delicate, complicated potions and as such require much attention to detail while preparing them.”

Hermione snorted. “Well that certainly wasn’t the case, she just mixing everything in the cauldron like it was soup.”

“Hence why she is _not_ in my NEWT level class,” he replied dryly.

She went quiet again, back in her thoughts. He watched her expressions, trying to sort out what he should say next.

She looked up and took a deep breath. “So how do we know for sure?”

“We need to perform two spells, _paternitas revelare_ and _virginemstatumia_. These will document both the paternity of the child as well as the status of your…,” he paused and had to clear his throat before finishing softly, “virginity.”

She looked confused for a moment and asked, “Why do we need the status of… oh, I understand. It would prove that the pregnancy was assuredly a result of the explosion and not due to any… inappropriate contact between us.”

He swallowed hard at her words. He nodded. “Indeed. It will protect both our reputations, such as they are.”

“Will you perform them, sir?”

He shook his head. “No. Madam Pomfrey will need to, with Professor McGonagall as witness. It guarantees that there’s no interference from either you or I in the results.”

“I understand.”

“So may I tell Madame Pomfrey she has your permission?”

“Yes. I think I would like to know for sure on both counts as soon as possible. Because if this has not been caused by the accident then something else has most definitely happened of which I have no memory and quite honestly, that scares me far more than the first option.”

He mulled her words for a moment, trying not to see red at the thought of _her_ being the victim of a sexual assault and memory oblivation.

He nodded. He stood and met Pomfrey’s gaze from across the room. He gestured to her and she started towards them with Professor McGonagall right behind her.

\-----

Pomfrey put the small tray she had been carrying down on the bedside table. Professor McGonagall gave Hermione a little smile of encouragement before looking to Snape sitting beside her and attempting to do the same for him, but he had a stony set to his jaw, giving away no emotion.

“How does this work?” Hermione asked matter-of-factly.

“We’ll do the _virginemstatumia_ first. That merely requires a drop of your blood that I then mix with a stabilizing elixir and cast the spell. The color of smoke produced will indicate the status in question. The _paternitas revelare_ will involve a piece of wet parchment being placed over your… womb and then the spell cast upon it. When the parchment dries it will reveal the paternity.”

“Are either of these dangerous to me or the pregnancy?” Hermione asked with a little concern in her voice.

“No,” came _his_ calm voice from beside her, “aside from the finger prick, there is no pain or danger in either spell.”

She nodded and turned towards McGonagall. “Will Professor Snape get in trouble for this if the tests show what we think they will show?”

McGonagall shook her head. “No. The Headmaster has assured me that he will not. It was a magical accident, there is no fault to be placed upon Professor Snape.”

She nodded then turned towards Snape, “And if this turns out not to match your explosion hypotheses is there a way to determine if my memory has been altered?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll do it yourself?”

His eyes locked on hers, knowing what _she_ was asking him to do. _Trusting_ him to do. He nodded once, giving her her answer.

Hermione turned back towards Pomfrey and lifted her hand offering up her finger for a jab. “Shall get it over with?”

\-----

Snape watched her carefully. Hermione appeared to be taking things in stride, but that was the kicker, she only _appeared_ to be handling everything well. She was holding herself together with the logical, fact-loving part of her brain, but underneath it all he could see her fear. It was practically rippling under her skin.

But then again, it was also rippling under his, underneath the expressionless mask he had slipped into place with practiced ease.

_She_ was pregnant, with, most likely, his child. There was very little doubt in his mind that it was his child.

His child, two words he never imagined saying in this lifetime. He was full of emotions he did not know how to deal with, that he didn’t how to sort and hide away in the secret corners of his mind to keep them safe from the Dark Lord. It was too big a thing, too much to ever think about hiding. Then he realized that her actually having this child was not a certainty. It wasn’t his decision to make. It was her body. Her choice. And she had options, both magical and Muggle.

\-----

Pomfrey efficiently stuck Hermione’s finger with a clean needle and collected the drop of blood in a small glass beaker. She added ten fat drops of stabilizing elixir and swirled the beaker, mixing them gently. She put it back down on the tray and picked up her wand. She carefully recited the spell’s incantation and her wand movements were sure and graceful as she cast the spell.

It only took a moment for the beaker’s mixture to start bubbling and a steady stream of snow white smoke billowed out of the beaker.

The three adults knew what it meant but Hermione did not and she asked, “And that means?”

Professor McGonagall answered, “You are still a virgin, Miss Granger.”

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding and replied softly, “So most likely no altered memories then?”

Snape answered, “Most likely not.” He noted that the possibility of someone toying with her memories seemed to be by far the most distressing to her in this entire debacle. He could understand that fear, her mind was sacrosanct to _her_ , and she would find it more even more distasteful to have her mind violated over her body.

She looked to him and nodded. “Good.”

\-----

“Are you ready for the second test, dear?” Pomfrey asked gently.

Hermione nodded and laid back down. Snape turned his neck almost completely around like an owl to avert his gaze when Pomfrey had lifted the edge of Hermione’s jumper up so she could find skin.

Snape bit back a snort when Hermione complained, “My god, that’s cold.”

He heard Pomfrey cast the spell and it was Hermione that gave him leave to turn back around, “It’s safe to look, sir.”

He faced her once again now that she was sitting back up. Pomfrey had the parchment on the tray and was using a gentle drying spell on it to get it to reveal the child’s father.

Two large S’s appeared first then the rest of the smaller letters filled in to read: _Severus Snape_.

\-----

They all stared at the slip of parchment for a while, no one speaking a word.

He knew her question was coming, but honestly didn’t know what to say.

“What do we do now, sir?”

He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled slowly. He held it for a moment and let it out as he opened his eyes and turned to see _hers_ , wide and scared and looking to him for guidance in this utter disaster that their lives had become.

“It is your body, Miss Granger. I will abide by whatever decision you make and support you in it. But it must be _your_ choice.”

“But…,” she started.

“There are no buts, Miss Granger. Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall will inform you of all your options, both magical and Muggle. If my signature is required, I will immediately provide it.”

“But do you want me to keep it? Would you want it? Want to be a father?”

“It is your body and your future. You must make this decision for yourself. My thoughts are irrelevant.”

He turned to leave and he had just about gotten to the door when he heard her say, “They’re not irrelevant to _me_.”

\-----

It had been four days since they had learned of the pregnancy and four days of him avoiding _her_ like the plague not wanting to influence her decision about whether or not to keep her child. _Their child_ , his inner voice corrected ad nauseam.

Hermione knocked gently on his classroom door. At his brusque, “Enter,” she opened the door and went inside.

Severus looked up to see the absolute last person he wanted to engage in conversation with standing in front of his desk. He grit his teeth briefly before saying coldly, “Miss Granger.”

She was nervous, wringing her fingers tightly in front of her, and trying to pluck up the infamous Gryffindor courage to speak.

When that courage failed her he raised his eyebrow and asked, “What is it, Miss Granger?”

She sniffed, feeling the tears coming. She bit them back and said with another sniff, “Will you please talk to me? This doesn’t just affect me. And I don’t know what to do.”

He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled slowly. He held it for a moment and let it out as he opened his eyes. He gestured with his hand for her to sit in the chair in front of his desk and said rather gently, “Sit.”

Snape picked up his wand and casually locked the door then put a muffliato charm on the door to ensure their privacy.

“Thank you,” Hermione said quietly.

Snape folded his hands in front of him on the desk. Not unkindly he said, “Miss Granger, the decision of whether or not you carry or terminate this pregnancy has to be your decision. It is _your_ body.”

“But it’s _ours_ , together, and your opinion matters to me,” she replied, making him clench his jaw tightly.

When he didn’t reply she asked a question, “Do you have children?”

“No,” he hissed out softly.

“Do you _want_ children?”

Again he clenched his jaw for a moment but answered with hint of regret that he couldn’t hide, “That ship has long since sailed for me, Miss Granger.”

“Not entirely given the circumstances. If I have this baby would you be part of its life? Be a father?”

“And what pray tell, would _I_ have to offer a child? You know what I am, Miss Granger. The things I’ve done, the things I _do_ ,” he spat out with a flash of anger and self-loathing.

Her Gryffindor courage roared and she said vehemently, “You are intelligent and hard working, and knowing what I know now, probably one of _the_ bravest men I’ve ever met. So don’t you dare say you have nothing to offer as a father.”

He blinked in surprise. No one since Lily had ever defended him so strongly, so singularly. And Hermione had done it without thinking, it wasn’t an act she was putting on just for him, her words too sharp and quick to be fake.

When he didn’t say anything she asked again, a little steel in her voice, “If I have this baby would you be part of its life? Be a father?”

He wanted to close his eyes and take another calming breath, but _she_ had locked her eyes on his demanding his answer.

“Yes,” he breathed out softly, a longing in his voice that they both heard.

\-----

Severus was trying to force down a bit of toast and tea at breakfast in the Great Hall the next day. He could see Hermione sitting at the Gryffindor table, she seemed to purposely have her back to the head table. To his eye she seemed tense, but then again he thought wryly to himself, _“So are you.”_

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of the morning mail. A house owl dropped a small wax-sealed note in front of him. He opened it to see painfully precise, familiar penmanship. The note contained one sentence and had no greeting or signature, but there was no doubt as to who it was from.

_“I’m keeping it.”_

The words hit him like a blow to the chest. He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled slowly. He held it for a moment and let it out as he opened his eyes to meet hers across the room.

She was sitting perfectly straight, a proud, stubborn set to her chin. He blinked, trying to will her to look away but she wouldn’t. Finally in the end he gave _her_ what she wanted and he nodded once.


	4. October - Fifth Year - Continued

_October continued…_

The morning after she had informed him of her decision to keep the baby an owl dropped off a large bulky package next to Hermione’s breakfast plate.

There was no note, no indication of where it came from. Ron and Harry were nagging her to open it and she was suddenly afraid to, not knowing what exactly she would find. A quick glance up to the head table alleviated all of her fears as she saw Snape watching her and give her a subtle tic of his head.

She opened the brown paper to find a set of professional potion making gloves and robes, the kind guaranteed to keep her and the baby safe as she continued her schoolwork.

The robes were such a thoughtful and kind gesture that Hermione felt the unwelcome tears pricking at her eyes. If he didn’t care about her or the baby he would never have sent them, he would not have put him self out in such a way. When she had informed him of her decision to keep the baby yesterday she still hadn’t been a hundred percent sure he would make good on his word to be a father to the baby, regardless of the near painful longing in his voice she had heard when he finally replied to her in his office. Yet here in front of her today was something tangible, something _he_ had put thought and care into in order to protect their child, _his_ child. Her feeling of safety washed over her yet again and was starting to feel like a old friend.

“That’s it? Just some boring old potion robes?” Ron asked, disappointed that it wasn’t something more exciting.

Hermione decided to lie. “Oh. I forgot I ordered these.”

The boys accepted her falsehood, they had no reason no to, not about potion robes of all things. When their attention had been diverted to something else, Hermione looked up to the head table and saw him watching intently. She gave him a little smile that she hoped he would interpret as appreciation and a thank you.

He nodded once in her direction before dropping his gaze back to his plate and attacking his food.

Neither of them noticed Professor Umbridge watching the brief exchange and seeing Hermione smile at him.

\-----

Umbridge confronted Snape in the corridor after breakfast.

He had just finished chastising a couple of third-years for screaming down the hall when he heard, “Hem, hem,” from behind him.

“Yes?” he asked dryly as he turned towards everyone’s least favorite professor.

“So I witnessed the most _interesting_ of exchanges between you and Miss Granger just now at breakfast. She most certainly had your full attention this morning, Professor Snape.”

He said not a word, his mask fully in place, though he did have a slight unnoticeable tensing in his wand hand. He wanted this pink harpy as far away from _her_ as possible. And indeed, if she became a credible threat to _her_ or _their child_ , murder would become an option, the vile witch would never see it coming.

When he didn’t say anything Umbridge continued, “I must say that I continue to find your behavior towards Miss Granger to be more than just merely bordering on the inappropriate, it is, in fact, rather perverse. The Minister will be shocked to discover Dumbledore allowing a Hogwarts’ teacher to behave so untoward an underage student.”

His eyebrow raised. Dumbledore had warned him about what the Minister was up to, and had asked Snape to not antagonize Umbridge.

“You read much into a Potions Master having an idle curiosity when a student receives professional grade potion making equipment at breakfast.”

“And _why_ exactly did Miss Granger feel the need to acquire professional potion making robes? Was she doing it to please you, Professor? Or perhaps, _you_ sent them to her, to further curry her favor?”

Snape thought quickly, a talent that had long kept him alive in his role as a spy. “It is not my practice to discuss a student’s private information, but as you are aware, Miss Granger was involved in a potion explosion and exposed to a large amount of rogue cauldron magic. It is in the best interest of her health that she not be inadvertently exposed to any further ambient potion magic for the rest of the school year until we are certain there are no long term after effects from the explosion. The only spare set of such protective robes I have are far too large for her although she has made do. I recommended the purchase of her own robes to her head of house as a better alternative. Given that they arrived at breakfast in front of everyone, it is apparent that they took my recommendation.”

“And what of her _smiling_ at you, Professor?”

He wanted to roll his eyes. This woman was insufferable. “She is most likely ecstatic not to have to wear _my_ robes any longer.”

“You think you have pat answers for everything. I will be watching you, Professor Snape, rest assured. I am positive that there is a fouler bend to your actions in regards to Miss Granger and _will_ find the proof of it.”

\-----

As the pink terror swished away, Severus quickly found a spot to scratch out a note to McGonagall explaining the interaction and his lies about the robes. He knew that Minerva would back him up with Umbridge should the insufferable witch choose to investigate his story.

He also knew that Transfigurations was _her_ next class, having fully memorized her schedule, the _why_ of him memorizing it was something he didn’t particularly care to examine in his own mind, and he was confident that McGonagall would inform Hermione of the lie they needed to maintain. They simply could _not_ have Umbridge have any knowledge of the exact nature of relationship between them. There was just too much at stake.

He called a house elf and asked her politely, despite the irritation he was still battling over Umbridge, to deliver the note to McGonagall.

\-----

A week later Snape was on his way to to the potions classroom for his final class of the day when he caught sight of Hermione dashing for the closest girls’ lavatory, her hand clasped over her mouth. She was apparently still vomiting, not uncommon in a pregnancy from what he understood from his recently gained knowledge in the subject as he had read and absorbed several thick tomes about it since her condition had come to light. It was also not the first time he had seen her make a dash for a lavatory with a greenish tinge to her cheeks at random times during the day.

He had learned that some women battled so called “morning sickness” all day long during early pregnancy and that the normal anti-nausea potions were not always effective. There were other potions better for the problem, but they were long, finicky, difficult potions to brew requiring rare ingredients making them extremely expensive to produce and were normally never stocked or even offered by healers.

Neither of those impediments bothered him in the least. As far as it being an exacting formula to get right, he had yet to find a potion he could not properly brew, this one wouldn’t even be a challenge.

Nor did he even waste any thought at all about the cost of the ingredients as his vault at Gringotts contained enough galleons for him to live far beyond comfortably for several lifetimes. Some of that gold came from his Hogwarts salary and some from payments from the occasional unsavory favor he would do for those in service of the Dark Lord to maintain his status. But the bulk of his wealth came from several medicinal potion patents he held secretly, things he had worked on late into the night when he needed to clear his mind and settle his thoughts. He had few necessary expenses living at Hogwarts most of the year, and while he bought himself books and clothing of the highest quality as well as all manner of rare potion ingredients and supplies, he led a very unpretentious lifestyle which barely put a dent in his stash of galleons. So as he thought of brewing this particular potion for _her_ he was more worried about the availability of the rare ingredients and not at all about what they would cost him.

As he set his second-year class to brewing he mentally went through the list of ingredients he needed, pleased when he deduced that he had all that he required for at least two batches of the potion, perhaps even three.

It took him six hours after his last class and nearly three hundred galleons worth of his private store of ingredients to brew it for her. It only made a week’s worth of treatment and could not be made too far in advance, but he knew, even without the little voice in his head telling him so, that he would brew it for _her_ as long as she needed it regardless of time or cost. She and his child needed for her to be able to eat and maintain proper nutrition, his time and galleons were of little consequence in the grand scheme of their health.

He bottled it carefully and scratched out a simple note. He summoned a house elf and politely asked her to put the potion and note on Hermione’s bedside table in her dormitory.

\-----

After the elf left Snape made his way to his rooms. He showered and put on his comfortable, if not raggedy, pajamas and went back out to the sitting room. He poured himself a glass of his favorite aged brandy, one of the few extravagant indulgences he bought for himself. His eye fell upon a small carved box tucked in one of his bookshelves. Taking the the box and his brandy, he sat himself in his comfortable chair by the fire.

The box contained the few mementos of his life growing up that he chose to keep. His long fingers flipped through the small stack of photos until he found one of he and his mother when he was but a toddler. Eileen Snape had not been a particularly pretty woman, leaning more toward the plain. She dressed in dowdy, old faded dresses, her hair in her ever-present tight bun and she had a tired, pinched look about her face. He looked to the boy in the picture who was dressed in rag-tag clothes and holding an old and beat up toy car. It was the boy’s eyes in the photo that gave him pause, there was no joy in them, no life, nothing at all like the vivaciousness in the eyes of the majority of children he had seen as an adult. He had no specific memories of his sire from that age, but he did have ugly, vile memories of his abusive wastrel father starting just a few short years from when this picture was taken, so though he had no specific memory, he doubted his very early years with his father were any different. His memories of his mother were as cold. There was never affection in her touch or words, her son was just another chore piled onto the unhappy woman.

He put the pictures away and closed the box. He knew that _she_ was nothing like his own mother. Hermione had a fiery spirit and fierce independence. She had also had a warm and loving upbringing and knew and understood kindness and compassion, love and friendship. She had manners and all measure of social graces. She embodied everything that he had never had as a child. He did not doubt for one moment, not even given her youth, that she would be an exceptional mother and would give their child all those things.

However his doubts about himself as a father felt like the crest of an avalanche about to bury him completely. He was not a warm and caring person and he preferred quiet and solitude. His sense of humor was a dry and scathing thing, certainly not fit for children. He took no pleasure in the lighthearted silliness that seemed to surround young ones. He had no idea at all how to even interact with a baby or with a very small child. And if he were honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.

But wanting to was a moot point. He had promised _her_ that he _would_ be a father to this child. He just, for all his intellect and learned knowledge, didn’t know _how_. The things he did know, with the most absolute certainty, was that _their child_ would be safe and protected and well provided for. Their child would never wear old, patched clothing for other children to ridicule or live in a hovel like Spinner’s End. Their child would never have a father who drank and raised his fist to their mother and most certainly would never have a father who would raise his fist to them. Their child would never have cause to have haunted eyes like he did in that photo - period.

Financial support and protection he could do, these were fairly simple things in the mess of it all, he just didn’t know how to do any of the rest of what it meant to be a father.

His brandy mellowed him and took himself off to bed.

As his eyes closed his tired mind conjured up an image of a little boy in pajamas, a little boy who looked a lot like him, him sprawled out contently on the carpet in front of the fire with a happy children’s book in front of him. As Snape let himself doze off he thought, _that I might know how to do_.

\-----

Hermione was dead tired when she left the common room and headed to bed. Dinner hadn’t sat well in her stomach, regardless that she had eaten only a small amount of the lightest fare on the table. She hadn’t expected her morning sickness to extend to all day every day and not being able to keep food down for days on end was starting to take its toll on her. Madame Pomfrey been able to dispense the standard anti-nausea potions, but they just weren’t helping. She was exhausted and had no energy and part of her just wanted to break down in tears over it all. She dropped her book bag on her bed and kicked off her shoes. As she turned to dig out her pajamas she noticed a glass vial and note on her bedside table. She quickly picked up the note and read:

_This is a more effective potion for your nausea. Four drops under your tongue three times a day. I will inform Madame Pomfrey that I have given it to you. Notify her or I immediately if you have any adverse reaction, though I do not foresee this being an issue._

The familiar handwriting and dry, direct tone let her know immediately who it was from, she could almost picture him at his desk efficiently scratching out the note. That now frequently appearing feeling of being looked after and safe washed over her yet again as she thought about _him_ noticing and caring that she was wasn’t feeling well, that _he_ took time and effort to brew a special potion for her to fix it, and that _he_ found a way to give it to her privately to help her avoid unwanted questions from her friends.

She put the note down and picked up the vial. She unstoppered it and without hesitation used its glass dropper to drip four drops of the milky green potion under her tongue. She had expected it to smell vile and taste bad, medicinal potions always seemed to smell vile and taste bad, but not this one, it smelled like fresh cut grass and tasted like sweet green lettuce. It was not at all unpleasant and she noted with a tired smile that it had just about instantly quelled her constantly swirling stomach.

She changed into her pajamas and laid down on her bed, wanting to just enjoy not being queasy for a few minutes before she wrote a thank-you note to him for the potion. Her tired body had other ideas however and dropped her into a deep sleep before she knew it.

\-----

Hermione knocked softly on the door to Snape’s classroom the following afternoon. She knew he had regular office hours scheduled for right now, but it wasn’t a guarantee that he was either free to see her or even in his office.

She heard a calm, “Enter,” and did so. His whole expression appeared to soften a bit upon seeing who it was. He gestured with his quill to the chair in front of the desk. She sat and he surprised her by asking abruptly, “How are you feeling?”

She had been unrolling parchments she had received from Madame Pomfrey, the entire reason for her visit. “Much better, thank you so much for that new potion, it’s quite settled my stomach. I haven’t been sick all day. It was wonderful to be able to eat today without worrying if I was going to be ill. I meant to send you a note last night but I fell asleep unexpectedly, I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

He nodded slightly. “No need to apologize. It’s good that the potion worked well, nutrition and rest are important for you… both. The vial I sent you should be enough for the week and I will brew more before you need it. It’s best not to make that particular remedy too far in advance.”

 _His_ eyes were gentle on her and it was disconcerting to say the least, but not entirely unwelcome. She unconsciously straightened and responded, “I appreciate that very much, sir. I hope it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” he replied plainly, then asked, “Is there anything else you require, Miss Granger?”

“Oh, yes, um… Madame Pomfrey had given me these forms to fill out. It’s a…family medical history and some others that are for the Ministry birth registry after the… baby’s… born.” She swallowed nervously and handed him the forms.

He glanced over the medical forms. She had diligently completed her half. They were all well and standard for any normal couple having a baby. But he and the girl in front of him were anything but normal. The Ministry forms gave him pause. They officially designated his paternity and direct right to the child should anything unthinkable happen to _her_ during childbirth. The very thought of _that_ making his brow furrow and his stomach twist.

When he didn’t say anything, Hermione offered, “Madame Pomfrey said the forms would be charmed so that no one can read them without our express permission, sir. They’ll be completely private that way.”

He met her eyes and held up the paternity designation. “Are you quite sure you want to do this?”

Her stubborn little chin came back out to play as it seemed to every time they spoke and she said resolutely, “Yes. I’m not ashamed. Unless… you are?”

 _Never_ , echoed in his mind, but what came out of his mouth was, “Not ashamed, no. But concerned.”

“About what may I ask, sir?”

“Given who I am, your safety and the child’s safety, among other things.”

“Oh,” she replied looking down at her hands, “and… what about _your_ safety?”

“I have not been safe in a very long time, Miss Granger.”

She met his eyes and nodded sadly at that but didn’t say anything.

“I will complete these forms and deliver them to Madame Pomfrey and I will place additional protections on them to further keep them away from… prying eyes.” His last words were dripping with the cold acid only he could put in his voice.

She looked up and held his gaze for a moment before quickly making the connection. “Umbridge. That foul, backward-thinking toad,” Hermione spat out, unthinking, then realized who she was sitting in front of, “Sorry, sir, I have _issues_ with Professor Umbridge.”

“As do we all. She suspects _something_ in regards to our circumstances but has no evidence. We must insure that remains the status quo.”

“Of course, sir. It’s going to be more difficult to hide in a few months on my part but no one needs to know who the father is even then, it’s no one’s business but yours and mine.”

“This will not be easy for you, I’m afraid, unwed mothers are not treated… kindly, in the wizarding world,” he said, his voice oddly gentle, protective even if she wanted to analyze it precisely.

Hermione stared at him a moment, this side of him, her most terrifying Professor, that keep appearing in their private moments was unexpected and terrifying in and of itself in a completely different way. It made her wonder how much of what people saw in him was merely a mask, an affect he put on to keep people away. This side of _him_ drew her in, made her feel safe and cared for in ways she wasn’t sure how to reciprocate, or if her reciprocation would even be welcome.

“It was something I had considered carefully when I made my decision. I’ll be able to handle it.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything, wondering how he was going to keep himself from hexing anyone abusing _her_ in the future.

Hermione stood to go and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Thank you for your time, sir, I’m going to work in the library before dinner,” she said with a little smile, “I have a potions’ essay due tomorrow that I need to proofread one more time.”

She had reached the door when she heard, “Miss Granger?”

She turned and he continued, “Be careful in regards to Umbridge.”

He said nothing further and it was her turn to nod simply before she turned and walked out the door.


	5. November - Fifth Year

_First Week of November - Fifth Year_

“Professor Snape?” he heard called out from behind him as he left lunch in the Great Hall. He turned to see Hermione walking towards him briskly. He paused and waited. He kept his emotions masked, although the genuine little smile on _her_ face as she approached him made, for just the briefest of moments before he tamped it down completely, a hint of _something_ unfurl in his chest.

She caught up to him and he raised a questioning eyebrow as she stood before him. “Miss Granger?”

“Sir, um… I was reading ahead in our text and as it turns out the potion I missed brewing the day I was so ill happens to be used as a base for several other more complex potions that are coming up. While I appreciate that you did not deduct points from my missing class that day, I was wondering if it would be possible to have the opportunity to actually brew the potion properly before it’s needed as part of something else?”

He had no doubt she would be able to brew the more intricate potions perfectly, regardless of not having brewed the base but he offered, “I have open office hours available tomorrow, you may attempt it then, Miss Granger.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that, sir, thank you.”

He nodded once more and turned to continue on his way. He noted that the new nausea potion seemed to be helping as there was color in her cheeks and no hint of dark circles under her eyes and he had seen her eating heartily at meals in the Great Hall in recent days. She looked to be the epitome of good health and he felt more than a little sense of satisfaction that he was able to provide her the potion helping to maintain it.

Seeing Hermione looking so well made his mood a bit lighter, so much so that when two first-years barreled into him as they rough housed around a corner he didn’t even deduct house points, merely glared at them and said, “Gentlemen,” with a raised eyebrow. He let the two boys scurry off unscathed after they both mumbled, “Sorry, Professor,” while staring at their shoes.

He went on his way with a shake of his head, wondering for just a moment what _his_ child would be like when he, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that _their child_ was a he, got to Hogwarts. He smirked internally as he hoped for slightly more decorum than the pair he just encountered, but with perhaps all of their innocent exuberance.

\-----

“So what do you intend to tell Voldemort about your… situation?” Dumbledore asked plainly.

Snape had only seen the headmaster a couple of times since the pregnancy became known. Dumbledore was fairly set in his opinion that Hermione should terminate it. He had couched it in words dripping with concern for her youth and future, but in reality the old wizard was more concerned about the effects it would have on his most useful spy, Harry, and the Order in general. It was a random chess piece thrown on the board that interfered with the long game Dumbledore had planned out against Voldemort and vanishing it in his esteemed opinion was simpler than trying to integrate it into play.

Snape let out a deep breath from where he stood beside Dumbledore at the balcony railing as they overlooked the grounds. “I have no idea,” he answered honestly.

“Surely you don’t think you can keep all of this hidden from him?”

Snape shook his head. “No. Of course not.”

“You know my suggestion, it would be a far better overall solution for her and the Order and there is still time. She’ll listen to you, you could and should convince her.”

“It is _her_ body and _her_ decision. None of us get to make that choice for her,” Snape replied most adamantly.

“And yet you are letting a sixteen-year old girl make that choice for _you_?” Dumbledore retorted.

Snape’s hands on the balcony railing tightened. Of all the people in his life making decisions for him that were out of his control, he had not one qualm about letting _her_ making this one. Hermione did not seek to control him or use him as a pawn in the cat and mouse game between Voldemort or Dumbledore, her loyalty in the matter only to the child growing beneath her heart. _Their child_ his inner voice corrected. His reply to Dumbledore was a dismissive snort.

The Headmaster left quietly leaving Snape alone with his thoughts. He _had_ to come up with a way to keep her safe from the Dark Lord. He had bits and pieces of ideas of how to do that and as he stood there as still as any of the gargoyles guarding the castle, he wove them together in his mind to formulate a proper plan. It was not the best plan, but it would keep _her_ and _their child_ safe.

\-----

Snape was was sitting at his desk grading papers while Hermione was working in her normal diligent way as she carefully brewed the potion she had failed to manage the day she ran out of class vomiting. The room was quiet save for the bubbling of her cauldron and the scratch of his quill. Oddly it wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet between them.

“Have you decided what you will tell your parents?” he asked softly after flicking a _muffliato_ towards the door.

She sighed and turned towards him. “The truth. But to be honest I am unsure how they are going to react, sir. They know about the explosion, just not the… baby.”

He nodded, knowing already that McGonagall had corresponded with Hermione’s parents when she was injured and subsequently healed. Inquiring further he asked, “When will you tell them?”

“Over the Christmas holiday.”

He nodded then offered, “Would my presence there improve the situation when you inform them? I would not be opposed to being there if needed.”

She smiled that same trusting smile _she_ had taken to giving him and shrugged. “I appreciate your offer, sir, but it’s probably best I do this alone. I honestly don’t know what their reactions will be. It’s fair to say they are likely to be disappointed in me and my decision. Perhaps even angry.”

“Is violence a possibility?” he asked carefully. He knew her parents were educated professionals but that did not preclude them from acting rashly in such a stressful situation. His experiences with his own father had shown him that parental violence could be a harsh reality and he would protect _her_ and _their child_ from that at all costs.

She shook her head vehemently. “No. Never, sir. Mum will probably cry and lecture me nonstop about my future and how I shouldn’t tie myself down to a baby yet and there were _options_ for an unintended pregnancy… _choices_ … and Dad … he will probably just not speak to me at all.”

A little embarrassed, she turned back to finish her potion and he thought about what she had just said. Her utter annoyance at the thought of the _“options”_ was evident in the tone she had used. He, along with McGonagall and Pomfrey, had all stressed to her that she had options, however none of them had actually asked her what her opinion was of said options.

“Do you and your mother have a difference of opinion when it comes to this subject?”

She kept her eyes on her cauldron but nodded. “Not entirely but enough that it always becomes an argument for us. I believe most firmly that a woman should have a right to choose and have that decision be respected regardless of what her choice actually is. My mother tends to thinks less of women who choose _not_ to terminate an unexpected pregnancy, like it’s a personal affront to any previous woman who wanted to but didn’t have the option. I do not agree and we’ve rowed over it more times than I can count.”

He had a sudden tightness in his chest. Did _she_ decide to keep their child to spite her mother?

Suddenly she turned around, a worried look on her face and her hand protectively over her womb. “None of that influenced my decision to keep this baby. Please don’t think that, sir.”

He blinked, surprised at her intuitiveness and replied, “May I ask what did?”

The corners of her mouth curled up a little and she blushed a bit as she turned back to her cauldron and stirred it slowly. “Magic actually. Yours and mine. I like to think of myself as a fairly strong witch, sir, but you… you are an exceptional wizard. Your magic is effortless and beautiful to watch. And when I was weighing all my options I just kept imagining a child with your magical gifts and the decision was completely clear to me.”

The lump in his throat was suddenly just _there_. That this extraordinary young witch in front of him would find any part of him beautiful was in and of itself mind boggling, but to hear her actually say it out loud, and so guilelessly, was something else entirely.

When he didn’t say anything right away she turned around nervously, meeting his eyes and seeing his dumbstruck expression. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, sir,” she said quietly.

“You did not. I am just… unaccustomed to being spoken of so,” he replied gently.

“No one compliments you on your magic?” she asked with a hint of disbelief.

“Not as such, no,” he replied.

Her brow furrowed for a moment at this answer but her cauldron bubbled loudly and she had to return her attention to it, the odd moment between them broken.

She finished her potion in silence and when it was done she asked him, “Will you check my work, sir?”

He stood and approached her work area. He took a good hard look at the cauldron contents, then he wafted the vapors coming from the cauldron towards him and inhaled deeply. Finally he gave the concoction a quick stir with the glass mixing rod pulling it out of the liquid and allowing it to drip off of the end slowly to see its viscosity. “How do you feel about this effort, Miss Granger?” he asked.

“According to the instructions provided I believe I’ve brewed it correctly, sir.”

He placed the stirring rod on the bench and nodded. “You have. Leave that cauldron here, I will use it to brew potions for Madam Pomfrey’s stores later.”

“Really?” she asked.

“There is no sense in letting a perfectly brewed potion base go to waste,” he replied noticing that she had straightened and a hint of a smile ghosted the corners of her mouth at his words of praise.

“Are you going to brew them now, sir?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “No. After dinner. There is no time now to start anything.”

“Oh,” she replied a bit dejectedly.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head and proceeded to start picking up her notebooks and supplies. “I was going to ask to watch you work, sir.”

He watched her as she put her things in her bag before he carefully extinguished the flame under the cauldron and placed a heavy cast iron cover on top of it. Not knowing precisely why, and lately that was becoming a standard in his dealings with _her_ , he offered, “Not tonight. But perhaps we can arrange for you to assist me in brewing for the infirmary another time.”

Her smile returned and she replied, “I would like that, Professor.”

They left the classroom and headed up the stairs making towards the Great Hall for dinner.

\-----

As Snape and Hermione headed down the corridor she asked, “Sir, your instructions say to use that potion base within sixteen hours but our book claims twenty-four, which is correct?”

He kept his eyes straight ahead, but answered her question. “The actual full effective time of the base is twenty-four hours. That is how questions on the OWLs and NEWTs will be worded, so remember that. However, if you are brewing it to actually use, then sixteen is a better rule of thumb. You’ve read ahead in the text, why do you suppose that is?”

They walked a few more paces before she answered. “Oh. I think I understand. All of the potions utilizing it as a base have brewing times under eight hours, by keeping to the sixteen hour mark it ensures that the base has full potency throughout any of the secondary brewing processes.”

“Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor,” he said simply.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied a bit absently as her brain was still spinning over the the potion concept.

They continued on their way to the Great Hall. He was feeling rather pleased with himself at Hermione’s quick grasp of the potion theory, a hint of pride in _her_ that was unexpected.

His good mood lasted only to the door of the Great Hall where Professor Umbridge was waiting with a coying little smile on her face.

“Professor Snape, Miss Granger. Fancy seeing the two of _you_ arrive together.”

He wasn’t going dignify her with a response but Hermione’s dratted Gryffindorness reared its head. “Professor Snape was kind enough to allow me to brew the potion I missed when I was ill during his normal office hours. I just finished.”

“Oh. how _generous_ of him, Miss Granger. Tell me, was he _kind_ enough to allow any other student to make up work today or are you just special to him?”

He took a deep breath and took a step towards Umbridge, putting himself between _her_ and the pink harpy. “That is enough,” he said sharply.

To his delight he saw Umbridge pale a little. He turned his head towards Hermione and said in his normal speaking voice, “Go along to dinner, Miss Granger.”

Hermione didn’t say anything further but slipped past the two squared off professors and went into the Great Hall.

Snape turned his attention back to Umbridge. “This is the third time you’ve accused me of unfounded inappropriateness.”

“So unfounded that you required a silencing charm on your office door? Hmm?”

“Skulking about the dungeons are we, Professor? The door in question was wide open, anyone, including you, was welcome to walk in at any time. That is the purpose after all of _open office hours_. But to satisfy your ridiculous curiosity, I often put a silencing charm on the door so that noise from the stairwell doesn’t startle anyone working with combustible materials in the potions lab. I place a high priority on safety in the laboratories under my supervision.”

“Pat answers, always with the pat answers. Soon you’ll find out that pat answers are not nearly enough, Professor Snape.”

“Well, until then, I’m going to dinner, Professor Umbridge. I have more open office hours Saturday morning if care to stop by,” he replied snidely and stalked past her into the Great Hall.

\-----

Severus delivered the healing potions he had brewed using Hermione’s potion base to the infirmary the next day and Madam Pomfrey insisted he stay for tea in her office.

She poured the tea and initiated conversation by saying, “That new potion you’ve given Miss Granger is a wonder, Severus.”

He accepted the cup she offered and nodded. “She has confirmed that it alleviated her nausea and that she’s able to eat properly.”

“Indeed. All is very well on that front, thankfully,” she replied without hesitation, having Hermione’s full permission to discuss the pregnancy with him. She sipped her tea then gave him a knowing little smirk. “Don’t think I don’t know how hard that potion is to brew or how expensive the ingredients are, Severus.”

He gave her a flat glare. “Neither is an issue. It is the least I can do for… them.”

Embarrassed, he looked away.

Gently she asked, “How are _you_ handling all this, Severus?”

He would have hexed anyone else asking, but Poppy had known him since he was but eleven, when he had arrived at Hogwarts a skinny, damaged child. She knew about his abusive father, the evidence of it littering his body when she had done his mandatory physical each year. She had also been the one to fix his broken bones and mend his injuries when James Potter and Sirius Black’s bullying left its mark. She never judged him, never pitied him, she simply patched him up and looked after him. She was, in fact, the closest thing he had to a proper maternal figure in his life. So when she asked her question, he knew it was borne out of genuine concern for him and not looking for idle gossip.

Snape let out a sigh. “If it had been anyone than Miss Granger I would have likely thrown myself off the Astronomy tower, but, as that is not the case, I am… coping. You and I both know she is intellectually a singular witch, Poppy, and she and I are both muddling our way through this situation the best two such disparate individuals can.”

“And your feelings about becoming a father?”

“Conflicted,” he replied flatly, his eyes firmly on his teacup.

Poppy reached over and laid a hand on Snape’s forearm. “Your past does not have to dictate your future, Severus.”

“I will _never_ be my father.”

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Are you affirming that to me or yourself, Severus?”

He looked up and met her eyes but didn’t say anything.

Poppy smiled gamely and said, “I ask that because of all the things I may not know about you these days, Severus, _that_ I do know without question. But I worry that _you_ don’t know it.”

“I am unsure how exactly to be a father other than to not be like my own.”

Poppy pulled back and sipped her tea. “That’s a good place to start and for what it’s worth, I have every confidence you’ll be a good father.”

He didn’t reply and they finished their tea in companionable silence, each lost their thoughts about the conversation.

\-----

Hermione knocked on Professor McGonagall’s open classroom door.

The older witch looked up with a smile. “Miss Granger, what can I do for you?”

Hermione entered the room and closed the door behind her. She went and sat in the chair near the big oak desk.

“Professor, you taught Professor Snape when he was a student?”

“I did.”

Hermione paused for a moment then asked, “What was he like back then?”

Professor McGonagall relaxed a bit in her chair. She could only imagine all the things spinning around Hermione’s head given her circumstances. With a little grin she replied, “He was a very quiet boy, very studious, it was rare that you’d ever see him with fewer books than you, yourself carry, Miss Granger.”

“Did he have many friends?”

McGonagall pursed her lips a bit before choosing the words of her reply carefully, “I would classify them more as acquaintances and house mates rather than true friends. He grew up in a dark time, child, and Slytherin had become a breeding ground for dark wizards. I often wonder if the Sorting Hat had misplaced him, personally I think Ravenclaw might have been better suited to his vast intellect.”

“He _is_ incredibly smart, I don’t think most of Hogwarts appreciates that.” Hermione replied with a little smile.

“Indeed they don’t.”

“Do you think…?” she trailed off.

“Do I think what, Miss Granger?”

“Do you think he and I might have been friends?”

“I honestly don’t know, Miss Granger. Though you both have a lot in common you are still very different people and as I said before, it was a very different time.”

Hermione mulled that over but didn’t say anything.

“May I ask how the two of you are getting along now?” Professor McGonagall asked.

Hermione smiled. “Well actually. For obvious reasons he’s treating me the same as he always has in public, but he’s been most considerate and even… kind when we’re in private.”

Minerva wasn’t surprised. She had known him a long time and had caught glimpses of the quiet boy she had taught here and there through the years, and she had seen his devotion to Hermione in particular when he had sat by her bedside night after night after the explosion.

“Good, as he should be,” Minerva said with a firm little nod.

\-----

That afternoon everything changed at Hogwarts.

Educational Decree Number Twenty-three was passed.

Dolores Umbridge was now the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am vehemently pro-choice, but I also respect that the choice to have an abortion is not for everyone. To me, each woman's circumstance is uniquely her own and her decision to either terminate or carry to term an unexpected/unwanted pregnancy should be respected and supported or it negates the entire concept of _choice_. I've projected that personal philosophy onto Hermione here in this chapter and I can honestly say that I've had the exact argument I wrote about between her and her mother here in real life. 
> 
> I've received some feedback on the story questioning why I am portraying Snape as being so adamant that the decision is Hermione's and _only_ Hermione's to make. The answer is simple to me really. Snape knows exactly what it means to make a decision that will affect you the rest of your life. He hasn't had the freedom of personal choices since he took the Dark Mark. His body has been pledged to Voldemort and later Dumbledore to use and do with as they will. I do not believe that Snape would ever attempt to take that agency away from someone else if it were left up to him, least of all someone for whom he has an iota of respect. He also grew up in an abusive household where his father held all the power. In this particular story of mine he desperately wants to distance himself from ever being like his father, so he would not attempt to force or coerce Hermione's decision as his father would have done to his mother. 
> 
> And my Dumbledore dislike/distrust is showing a bit - lol - sorry/not sorry.
> 
> PMs/emails welcomed if anyone wants to discuss - CJ aka WritinginCT


	6. November - Fifth Year - Continued

_Second Week of November - Fifth Year_

Hermione startled when the little house elf popped into her dormitory to hand her a sealed note. “Thank you,” she said kindly and the little elf left.

_It is urgent that I speak with you. Please come to my office after dinner this evening. Bring with you questions about my most recently assigned essay as cover if needed._

It wasn’t signed but she knew it was from him. He had never summoned her like this before, and she didn’t hesitate to believe the urgency.

At dinner she she begged off from studying with Ginny and Luna and made her way down to the dungeons and his office.

\-----

Hermione arrived at his office to find him grading essays. He held up a finger indicating he needed a moment, all the while his eyes were focused on the scroll in front of him.

She sat and then watched him as he worked. He read _every_ word. Occasionally his brow would furrow over something he read and his quill would quickly dip in the red ink and scratch out a comment and at the very end he paused for moment and rescanned the essay with his eyes before decisively marking a large “E” at the top and circling it.

Snape finally looked up to see her smiling at him. Lightly she said, “I believe I owe you an apology, sir.”

He rolled up the essay and put it to the side with the other graded work and replied, “Whatever for?”

“I didn’t think about the fact that you actually have sit and read the homework you assign us and I’ve always written at least twice as much as you’ve ever asked for. I’m sorry and I’ll be more aware of that in the future.”

He regarded her for a moment before he nodded in response. “You, at least, have a firm grasp of spelling and punctuation unlike many others.”

She thought for a moment that the corner of his mouth had curled up the slightest bit, but as quickly as it was there it was gone. He flicked a silencing spell towards the open door and turned back to face her, his familiar mask of seriousness firmly in place.

“I need to speak with you as the father of the child you carry. Not as your professor, not as a member of the Order, and not as a Death Eater. Just as someone who cares about you and our child’s wellbeing. Can you keep that firmly affixed in your mind for this conversation?”

It briefly made her wonder how difficult it must be for _him_ to keep it affixed at times. Then that thought was shoved aside as a little flicker of something warm unfurled in her chest when she realized that _he_ had actually admitted out loud to caring about her and the baby.

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Dumbledore believes you should terminate the pregnancy. It is an unexpected interference in his long term plans and he is not pleased. He is most adamant about it and wishes me to convince you. Something, as you know, I am not wont to do.”

“It’s not his decision, not in the least,” she said with a hint of disgust.

“No, it is not and I have told him so. Repeatedly. Be careful around him, Miss Granger, behind that grandfatherly visage he is as ruthless as the Dark Lord in his schemes for the so called _greater good_.”

“I understand. Do you think he would try to harm the baby?”

“That I do not know. But I am going to give you a wide-purpose antidote to carry on your person, it will be the best we can do to protect you should _someone_ try to slip you an abortifacient.”

She nodded, the horror at the thought of the wizard they were all depending on in this war doing something to harm their baby sinking in.

“That brings us to the issue of the Dark Lord,” he said gently.

Her eyes widened in fear.

“You know of _occlumency_?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s the art of clearing and compartmentalizing your mind to protect it from intrusion.”

“Very good. This is a tool I must employ in my various roles. It protects not only me, but the Order, and… others. I am a highly skilled _occlumens_ , however there are limits to what I can hide within my mind, there are some things which are simply too big to be broken apart and hidden.”

“The baby,” she said with understanding.

“Yes. Why do you suppose that is?” he challenged her gently, making her think.

She thought for a moment. “Because it doesn’t just affect one thing in your mind, it affects _everything_ in your life. There’s no simple way to compartmentalize it in order to hide it.”

“Exactly. The next time I am in front of the Dark Lord he _will_ know about our child. He is just too powerful a _legilimens_. There is nothing I can do to hide it effectively. So I have come up with a course of action that I feel has the best chance of the three of us,” he gestured between himself and her and her stomach, “surviving the Dark Lord’s discovery.”

His mask slipped and for a brief moment she saw the fear in his eyes. Not for _himself_ but for her and for their child. The traitorous emotion was tucked away just as quickly as it appeared. There was no question in her mind that he would die for them, that he would sacrifice himself if he thought it would protect her and his child. The sense of safety and protection she had grown to associate with _him_ washed over her and she squared her chin and replied confidently and without hesitation, “I trust you.”

He swallowed hard at her words. She wondered for a moment if she had said the wrong thing.

When he didn’t reply, she asked, “So what is your plan? What do you need me to do?”

Her response snapped him back to the conversation. “What is the one thing the Dark Lord respects in this world?”

She ticked her head and thought. “I’m tempted to say power, but I don’t think that’s it. It’s too simple an answer.”

“Correct, while he desires power he doesn’t particularly respect it. The thing he respects above all else is magic.”

“Magic?”

“Indeed. He is drawn to it, longs to understand it, craves it even. Make no mistake, this insatiable intellectual appetite of his made his actual working knowledge of magic far outstrip Dumbledore’s long ago. He has always been most intrigued by spontaneous and accidental magic, those things without ready explanation that he can puzzle over and bring his vast knowledge to bear in figuring it out. I can use that to our advantage.

Her mind was spinning and she blurted out, “Because the baby came about through magic.”

“Exactly. I have done exhaustive research since your condition came to light. There has never before been a child created solely through magic of which I can find any record. If I present it to the Dark Lord in the correct way, his interest will be piqued and I believe that he will not only protect you from his Death Eaters, but from anyone else who would harm you.”

“You mean Dumbledore.”

“Yes.”

“You think he’d protect me even though I am Muggle-born?”

“Yes.”

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment before asking, “Will he want to see me personally?”

“Most likely. And that brings me back to _occlumency_. I need you learn it, as quickly as possible. I will send you the best text I have on the subject. Read it and practice the techniques in it. I’ll arrange for us to have time to hone your skills. We still need to be careful about Umbridge, now more than ever given her new authority, but I suspect that once the Dark Lord knows about you that that annoying pink menace will be off our backs one way or another.”

Hermione looked down at her hands in her lap. “You really believe this is the only way?”

“I do.”

“It frightens me… him knowing.”

He was about to reply when he caught a sliver of pink skulking about outside the office door. “Umbridge,” he whispered, “play along.”

He ratcheted his voice back to its normal volume and timber and said, “It is not a particularly difficult concept, Miss Granger,” just as Umbridge walked through his silencing ward and into the room.

“But, sir, I still don’t understand. Why does our text indicate that we have a full twenty-four hours to use the base while your lecture notes specify that we only have sixteen?”

“Hem, hem,” they both heard as Umbridge approached and sat in the chair next to Hermione so she could see them both.

Snape leveled a flat glare at the vile witch. “Yes?” he asked with a sneer.

“Don’t mind me, Professor. Pretend I’m not even here,” came the answer couched in false sweetness.

“Very well,” he replied coldly and returned his focus to Hermione, “Open your mind, Miss Granger, think outside the text for once. Why do you _think_ you should use start to use that base within sixteen hours?”

She acted her part well and pretended to think.

“Well?” he asked coldly.

She frowned, in part acting but also in part from his demeanor, especially that biting tone he hadn’t used with her since their meeting in the Grimmauld kitchen. She said softly, “I don’t know, Professor.”

“Think harder and write a scroll’s worth on it by your next class. Now leave before I deduct house points for wasting my time.”

She sighed and gathered her things. “Yes, sir.

Umbridge’s eyes followed her the whole way out. When Hermione had reached the door she stopped and turned back around when he said, “One scroll, Miss Granger, no more no less. Clear?”

It was there if you knew where to look, that minuscule lifting of the corner of his mouth and his words reminding her of their earlier lighthearted conversation, reminding her that _he_ was still there underneath the projected harshness. She nodded and replied, “I understand, sir.”

She turned and left heading for the library for some peace and quiet to sort out _all_ they had discussed.

\-----

“Is it unusual for Miss Granger not to know the answer to such a question?” Umbridge demanded after Hermione had left.

“Do you?” he asked snidely.

“Well… no, but that is hardly the point, Snape,” Umbridge huffed.

“It is exactly the point, _Professor_. Miss Granger’s question is actually that of a Masterly level candidate and not merely an OWL level fifth year. Encouraging her to expand her knowledge and teaching her to think beyond the text is my duty as a potions Master should I hope to leave the field in capable hands in the future. Now, is there anything else I can assist you with or may I go back to marking these tiresome second-year essays on laboratory safety?”

“I have nothing further for you this evening, but know that as High Inquisitor I will be watching you… and Miss Granger. I _will_ have my answers about the truth of your _relationship_ ,” she said with what passed as a hint of warning in her voice as she stood.

With a bored look on his face, Snape replied, “She is an insufferable little know-it-all and I her unfortunate potions professor. That is our relationship.”

As she walked away she said in sing-song voice without turning back around, “You better hope that’s true.”

It was all he could do not to hex her.

\-----

That night Hermione found a parcel wrapped in plain brown paper under her pillow. She subtly closed the curtains around her bed, wanting privacy. She opened the parcel to find the promised text on _occlumency_ as well as another small box containing a beautiful oval opalescent stone on a delicate silver chain. She looked in awe for a moment at the beautiful pendant before tearing her eyes away to read the accompanying note.

_“This is the antidote we discussed earlier. Should you suspect or feel the effects of an ingested potion, place the stone under your tongue. It is a sufficient counter-agent to all but the rarest few. I tried to make it innocuous looking while not altogether unattractive. You did well earlier. Our conversation was interrupted at a most inopportune moment, but know that fear is healthy in these times and I would have been more surprised had you not been afraid."_

Hermione re-read the note and looked to the pendant once again. Had she not known it was a poison antidote she would have simply have seen it for the lovely necklace it was.

She didn’t hesitate and fastened it around her neck and tucked it against her skin, its weight and warmth making her feel safe.

She pulled out a fresh bit of parchment and wrote him a note in reply.

\-----

The owl delivered a sealed note to him at breakfast. The emotions said note elicited in him both surprised him and filled him with something he was unwilling to acknowledge, let alone name.

_"It is absolutely beautiful. Thank you. I won’t take it off. I know this necklace has a particular purpose, but I thought you should know, for what it’s worth, that no one other than my parents has ever given me jewelry before, it was most unexpected. Like you, I’m also sorry our conversation was interrupted. I trust you without question and know that you want what is best for us… thank you for that, I don’t think that we are anyone else’s priority. I’m scared… not only about what we discussed, but rather the thousand other things we did not. I have the utmost faith in you, never doubt it, no matter what I may have to say in front of others."_

_Her_ note elicited feelings in him best left forgotten. But that was fast becoming something he just couldn’t do.

He looked down to where she was sitting at the Gryffindor table and tried to steel his emotions. Then she looked up and met his eyes as he was holding her note. Their gazes met, and held fast. For just a moment, the very briefest of moments he let himself believe that the connection he had to the guileless witch was that of fate, a chance encounter between two like souls, one borne of love and attraction. But then the reality of the connection asserted itself and reminded him that she was his student, and a witch who bore him only out of circumstance, not choice.

\-----

Organizing Dumbledore’s Army took a bit of effort but it felt good to be opposing Umbridge and the ridiculous restrictions imposed on their education by the Ministry.

Hermione had to be careful when they practiced spells on each other, she couldn’t risk the baby, so she used the same excuse that Snape had come up with about the potion robes.

“Harry, I’m not going to be able to be partnered with anyone to practice spells on me.”

Harry looked confused, she had never shied away from spellwork before. “Why not?” he asked simply.

“Because of the explosion I’m supposed to avoid coming into direct contact with all unnecessary spells and magic. I’m barely allowed to use a drying spell on my hair after a bath.”

“Oh. Right. I almost forgot about all that. No worries, we have enough people for everyone to switch off for practice.”

She hated lying to her friends, Harry especially, but she wasn’t ready for them to learn the truth. She had to tell them before she began to show, but she had a bit of time before she had to worry about it.

\-----

The first attempt on her pregnancy came two weeks after Snape had given her the necklace.

As she was known to do, Hermione grabbed a golden yellow apple out of the big basket in the Gryffindor common room on her way to breakfast and tucked it into her bag to snack on later. It was a healthy habit ingrained by her parents and the yellow apples were her favorite. She paid no mind that that morning there was only one lone golden yellow apple in the large basket of apples.

Later that morning in a break between classes she pulled out the apple and sat on one of the stone windowsills to enjoy the sun and a few minutes of reading.

The minute she bit into the apple and its juice hit her tongue her whole mouth began to tingle in a most unpleasant way. She quickly spat out the apple and noticed a distinctly metallic taste in her mouth. She began to feel woozy. Without hesitation, or indeed even cognizant thought, she pulled her necklace out from her blouse and without even pulling the delicate silver chain over her head, she stuck the opal-like stone under her tongue. She could feel it dissolving and the tingling and taste in her mouth went away quickly. The wooziness she was experiencing also receded.

She looked at the innocuous looking apple she had dropped on the sill and felt ill for an altogether different reason as the realization that someone, no _Dumbledore_ , had tried to poison her and kill her baby. She wanted to go to Madame Pomfrey to be checked over but it almost didn’t feel safe to do so, what if Madame Pomfrey was in on it? No, there was only one person she trusted in regards to this at the moment. _He_ would know what to do.

She quickly cast a stasis charm over the apple and carefully picked it up with her handkerchief. Grabbing the rest of her things she bolted for the dungeons.

\-----

He sat at his desk, organizing his papers for his next class due to start after the break. He wasn’t at all expecting her to rush in, completely flustered.

He took one look at her face and the pendant missing its stone hanging outside her robes and knew that something dreadful had happened. “What is it?” he asked as he stood flicking a _muffliato_ at the door out of habit.

Hermione carefully placed the bitten apple on his desk. “You were right, _someone_ tried to slip me something.”

She quickly explained what had happened and he literally saw red. He had suspected that Dumbledore had it in him to do such a thing, but he had held out an iota of hope that the old man wouldn’t actually attempt it. He was wrong.

He forced his emotions back and re-focused on what _she_ was saying.

“I used the stone. It made all the symptoms go straight away. I just… I want to be sure everything is okay but…,” she hesitated.

“But what?”

“Can I trust Madame Pomfrey or do you think it’s possible she was in on this in some way?”

He shook his head. “No. Poppy would never do such a thing. Not ever. I would trust her with my life.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything. Still shaken.

“Let me alleviate your worry,” he said as he stepped around his desk and lifted his wand and cast a simple diagnostic spell.

They could both see the results and see that all was fine with both mother and child. He wished he could say that the relief that spread through him surprised him, but he couldn’t. The protective draw towards _her_ was as strong, if not stronger, than ever.

Hermione let out a deep sigh and said, “Oh, thank goodness.”

He nodded. “Indeed.”

He reached into an inner pocket of his frock coat and pulled out a small vial containing a dozen more opalescent stones. He poured one out into his hand and placed the vial down on the desk. He reached for her necklace and placed the new stone in the empty setting where the old one had been. He murmured an incantation and the stone attached itself. He held onto it for a moment, his hands not quite wanting to let it go of this simple looking thing he had created to protect his child, this simple looking thing that _had saved_ his child. His thoughts turned dark, while he had a deep sliver of hatred in his heart for Dumbledore over failing to protect Lily, it was nothing compared to the new chasm of hate that the attempt on his child’s life had opened up.

He came back to himself when he felt _her_ hand on his. He looked up from the necklace and met her eyes. Softly she said, “We’re okay. Your antidote worked perfectly. You kept us safe.”

The heat from _her_ hand felt scorchingly hot. Other than Poppy’s ministrations in the infirmary, he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had touched him with such tenderness, such warmth. It was almost too much to bear on top of his emotions over the attempt on his child’s life. Slowly, because in truth he was loath to break the physical connection, he lowered his hands and stepped back from her.

He turned away from her and composed himself as he picked up the vial of stones and carefully re-stoppered it and secreted it back away in his pocket.

After a long few moments he finally felt able to face her again and he turned around.

“I will see what else I can do to protect you from the _person_ ,” he sneered out the word, both of them knowing he meant Dumbledore, “attempting to poison you. For now, eat only out of the common dishes in the Great Hall and do not sit in the same seat twice in a row.”

She nodded. “I understand. He’d have to poison half of Gryffindor if I do that.”

“Correct. You received the text?”

“Yes, I read four chapters last night concentrating on learning the process itself and I started practicing the meditative techniques. It’s not easy but I’m an organized person by nature and my thoughts are just one more thing for me to learn how to organize.”

“Good. Practice hard, I fear we will need you to use it sooner rather than later. You should head to your next class, the break is over.”

She tucked her necklace back against her skin and picked up her bag. “Thank you, for everything, sir.”

“You are most welcome, Miss Granger.”

She gave him a little smile and left his office.

The moment she left a deep scowl filled his face, his eyes dark with fury. He could kill Dumbledore with his bare hands. If the conniving old wizard wasn’t their best hope for ridding themselves of the Dark Lord once and for all he would kill the man without hesitation.

 

tbc...

 


	7. December - Fifth Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To address some emails and messages I’ve received, this story has not been abandoned. I do not write stories beginning to end, instead I write scenes as I get inspired. I have this entire story laid out clearly from start to finish, which, for the record, ends with the Battle of Hogwarts. So you can see that there is much more to come as this story is still in OoP territory canon-wise. I have many future chapters written already, but I still have to write the parts to connect them all. I also participated in NaNoWriMo this year and have been immersed in that project. Thank you to everyone following this story, the response has been so positive and I can’t thank you all enough for all the kudos and kind words. -CJ aka WritinginCT

_First Week of December - Fifth Year_

Three hundred and eighty-four steps. That was all it would take for Severus to get from the gates at Malfoy Manor into the drawing room where Voldemort held court. He paused at the gates and took a moment to settle his thoughts before walking through the gate’s wards as if they weren’t even there. In three-hundred and eighty-four steps he would either protect himself, Hermione, and his child or sentence them all to death.

Three hundred forty-six. Nothing to hear but the crunch of gravel under his boots in the crisp winter air.

Two hundred ninety-two. An ugly gargoyle on a pillar standing watch with its roaming eyes that he forever itched to send a _bombardi maxima_ towards.

Two hundred thirty-one. The start of Narcissa’s snarled, now winter-bare, rosebushes which had thorns longer than his fingers and were the stuff of nightmares.

One hundred ninety-nine. A bit of open frost-laden lawn that always held obnoxious peacocks in the warm weather, those damn annoying birds a favorite of Lucius.

One hundred sixty-five. The serpent fountain that is as vulgar now as it was when crafted in 1746, something else that could use a good leveling curse thrown in its direction.

One hundred twenty-one. The stone-paved walk to the front door.

Eighty-seven. The top of the grand staircase, his footsteps silent on the stairs as always.

Forty-three. Halfway down the hall to the drawing room, not too late to turn around and rethink this plan entirely.

Twenty-six. Yet another repugnant portrait of a pure-blood male Malfoy ancestor, the antiquated blond bigot silenced with a glare.

Twelve. The light from the drawing room door up ahead, still not too late to turn around.

One. The threshold to either their salvation or the signing of their death warrants.

He stepped over that threshold decisively and into the drawing room.

\-----

“Severus!” the Dark Lord said warmly, his oily voice sibilant as ever.

Severus approached and knelt, head down, in an expected display of submission.

A gentle touch on his head both made Severus’ skin crawl as well as let him know he could rise.

Severus stood and glanced around the room. The Malfoys were in attendance along with Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange, Yaxley, Dolohov, and Rowle, as well as several other lower sycophants of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort met his eyes and asked, “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure, Severus?”

Severus was occluding all he could. He answered the Dark Lord with the words he had practiced a hundred times in his head. “My Lord, I would beg a private audience.”

Voldemort froze and stared at Severus for a long hard moment. Never in the time since he had been resurrected had Severus asked for a private audience. He stared at Severus a beat longer before ordering. “Everyone. Leave us. Now.”

Bellatrix looked to Voldemort and simpered, “My Lord, even me?”

Without taking his attention away from Severus, Voldemort said coldly, “Everyone.”

Quickly, not wanting to incur Voldemort’s wrath for disobeying, the collected group of Death Eaters exited the room.

Once he and Severus were alone, Voldemort threw locking and privacy wards at the door they had left through with a casual wave of his hand, knowing his Death Eaters well he was assured that at least one or two of them would attempt to listen in on the conversation about to take place.

“Now tell me, Severus, what is so important?”

“I find myself in a most unusual situation, my Lord. There was an accident, an explosion.”

“I am aware and was told that you and the Mudblood girl were in the infirmary. Are you still unwell because of it?”

“No, my Lord, I recovered completely. However, the girl, she was affected by the rogue cauldron magic in an unprecedented way.”

“Go on.”

“When the cauldron exploded the wave of magic from it went first through me and then into her. She was then unconscious for a week and almost died had I not been able to brew a counter-agent. We have since discovered…,” Severus paused for the slightest moment which Voldemort noticed.

Severus knew it was coming, Voldemort diving into his mind and digging through his memories, but it was a shock none the less. He had carefully tucked away all the things he didn’t want the Dark Lord seeing, leaving free the informative memories which Voldemort was now rifling through- the explosion and their recoveries, then fast forwarding to finding _her_ vomiting in the dungeon hall and passing out, his overheard conversation between she and Poppy, their subsequent bedside discussion about his theory. In particular, Voldemort played and replayed the memory of Poppy performing the _paternitas revelare_ and _virginemstatumia_ tests and their results.

He abruptly pulled out of Severus’ mind leaving Severus standing there swaying a bit from the force of his departure. Voldemort started to pace around the room, his talon-like fingers cupping his chin as he thought through the situation. Seconds turned to minutes which turned into well past a quarter hour before Voldemort spoke again.

“That is supposed to be impossible, Severus,” he finally said. There was no hint of anger in his voice or demeanor but Severus knew all too well that that could be deceiving.

“That was my understanding as well, my Lord. I researched extensively and have found no other recorded instance of a pregnancy formed solely through magic.”

“Indeed, not, Severus. A child born solely of magic has long been a goal of many a failed wizard. So… what is it about this Mudblood which makes magic gift her something so special, Severus? And with you, a half-blood, of all people?”

“I do not know, my Lord, which is why I thought it best to seek your counsel.”

Voldemort nodded. “Wise decision. And your thoughts on becoming a father with this Mudblood?”

“I had never planned on having children of my own, my Lord, but circumstances such as they are have made that moot. Looking at the positives, the girl is intelligent and is magically adept so it is unlikely that the child will either be a squib or intellectually stunted in any way. I have not let myself think any further than that, my Lord, I was awaiting your guidance on how best to handle the situation.”

Voldemort mulled that over for a moment.

“And what of Dumbledore? What is _his_ reaction to your joyous news?”

“He wants her to abort and is most adamant about it. It interferes with his carefully laid plans for Potter. In fact, he has already attempted to slip her an abortifacient,” Severus said calmly even as he wanted to choke the life out of Dumbledore just thinking about what he had done.

“He _what_?” the Dark Lord demanded in a voice made of shards of ice. He turned and leveled his wand at an unoffending settee across the room that had graced Malfoy Manor for over two hundred years and blew it to bits to vent his anger. “He would _dare_ try to kill this child magic itself brought into being?” he bellowed.

“Yes, my Lord,” Severus said softly, “Thankfully, she was able to counter it immediately as I had produced a general antidote for her to carry on her person at all times once Dumbledore began pushing his preferred solution to her unexpected situation.”

“Show me,” Voldemort demanded and Severus was again subjected to the Dark Lord slithering around in his memories.

When he had viewed both Severus’ discussion with Dumbledore on the balcony, a carefully abridged version of his discussion with _her_ about Dumbledore, as well the aftermath of Dumbledore’s poisoning attempt in the potions classroom, Voldemort pulled out of Severus’ head.

“That was very prudent of you, Severus. You know that he will try again.”

“Yes, and if he can’t poison her I would not put it past him that she would meet with a stray hex or unfortunate accident causing her to lose the baby.”

“You are keeping her safe from that old fool?”

“As well as I can, my Lord.”

Nagini slithered close to Voldemort, sensing her master’s ire and he reached down to gently stroke the serpent’s head. “I want to see her, Severus. Arrange to bring her here for a visit at a time when she won’t be missed. Do not let Dumbledore know of my interest as it will fuel his efforts towards her even more. We will protect this Mudblood and your unborn child and I will unravel the puzzlement of it all, Severus.”

“Thank you, my Lord. The weekend after next is a Hogsmeade weekend and would perhaps be the best opportunity for me to bring her here without alerting the Headmaster.”

“Very well. Is there anything else?” Voldemort asked as he sat back down at the head of the large table and adjusted his robes around him, Nagini curling up in her normal protective spot next to him.

“Umbridge is a problem. She knows of the explosion, of course, but does not know of the pregnancy. She is insistent upon proving an illicit relationship between Miss Granger and myself. It makes it difficult to protect the girl and the child, my Lord.”

Voldemort waved dismissively. “She is a minor irritant easily handled. You worry about Dumbledore and his meddlesome ways and I will have someone see to Umbridge, Severus. Now we must also see to protecting the Mudblood from your brothers here,” Voldemort said and flicked his wand at the doors, throwing them back open, “as most of them would kill her on sight if she were caught out.”

It took all of Severus’ power as an _occlumens_ to cage his emotions, no, his _rage_ , at the thought of any Death Eater harming _her_. The things he would do to any of them that would dare hurt _her_ or his child would make them beg for the mercifully quick, simple death of an _Avada Kedavra_.

The former occupants of the room save for the lower level Death Eaters quickly filed back in and sat down, everyone glancing nervously at the remnants of the once beautiful settee which were scattered about the room.

Voldemort looked around the table making eye contact with each and every person sitting there. These were his fiercest lieutenants, his most faithful servants, and they would follow his orders without question or fail. “What I am about to reveal to you all does not leave this room,” he said strongly.

Those around the table mumbled, “ _Yes, my Lord,_ ” and nodded.

Severus sat straight in his chair at Voldemort’s left, his hands folded calmly on the table in front of him.

Voldemort continued speaking, “Most of you are aware that Severus and Potter’s Mudblood were involved in an explosion earlier in the school term. What you do not know is that through the magic released in the explosion that the girl is now pregnant… with Severus’ child.”

Narcissa spoke up softly, “My Lord, you mean that she conceived without…,” she couldn’t finish.

“Yes, my dear Narcissa. I have seen Severus’ memories of the _paternitas revelare_ and _virginemstatumia_ tests being performed by Madam Pomfrey. The Mudblood is indeed a virgin now pregnant with Severus’ child.”

Narcissa’s mouth fell open a bit. The Dark Lord did not chastise her for questioning as most of them gathered knew that Lucius and Narcissa had tried for years for another child, with her suffering many, many failed conceptions before they finally stopped trying. Magical conception was the Holy Grail for Pure-blood women who were conceiving less and less with each generation but thus far it had been but a myth.

“I am ordering all of you here and now to ensure that _no_ harm comes to this girl and the child she carries. Tell the others not present here the same but do not tell them why she is to be protected, that information stays here. You should also inform your children as I would be most displeased should she come to harm at the hands of one of her schoolmates.”

There were more mumbled, “Yes, my Lord,” from around the table. With a final piercing glare at each person, Voldemort dismissed them all with a wave of his hand. As the room cleared once again, Voldemort stroked Nagini’s head as he mulled over all that he saw in Severus’ memories.

\-----

Severus had gone as well making it to the corridor when his name was called out in a familiar feminine voice. “Severus.”

He paused and turned to see Narcissa walking towards him in her elegant, stately pace. She surprised him by slipping her arm around his and starting them walking down the corridor arm-in-arm.

Softly she asked, “Is it true?”

He nodded and replied equally softly, “Yes.”

“And is the… the girl well?”

He thought her attempt at civility interesting and tucked it away for future thought. “She was in a coma for a week after the accident but recovered completely once I was able to produce the appropriate counter-agent to the rogue cauldron magic.”

“And the baby?”

“According to Madam Pomfrey all is quite well with the pregnancy, nothing amiss or out of the ordinary. Miss Granger does suffer day-long morning sickness which was resistant to the standard nausea potions but I have since brewed her an alternative which has alleviated the problem.”

“The _matris deiectionem_ drops?” Narcissa asked.

Severus nodded. “Yes. She is now able to eat properly without purging.”

Narcissa chuckled. “You know how well I know that potion, Severus, how many months did you brew it for me when I was pregnant with Draco? She has my sincere sympathies for needing it. Do you have all you need to keep making it for her? I know the ingredients are rare and costly.”

Severus was not insulted by Narcissa’s words as they were not meant as insult to his ability to provide for Hermione and his child, but rather as something, _anything_ , she could personally offer to help. He knew how desperately Narcissa had wanted another child, still wanted, in fact, as she was not yet out of her childbearing years.

“I have adequate supplies,” he replied simply.

“Let me know if that changes, I can have ingredients brought in from the continent if need be.”

“Thank you, I will.”

They had reached the grand staircase and stopped walking. They turned to face one another and Severus was trying to decipher the expression on her face to no avail.

“Severus, this has the potential to change so much. Keep her safe.”

“I fully intend to, Narcissa.”

She reached over and gave his hand a little squeeze. He noticed that her touch did not have the same effect on him as Hermione’s did, there was no heat, no draw for him to keep holding Narcissa’s hand like there was with Hermione. He didn’t know what it all meant. It had to be a side effect of the explosion somehow, this irresistible pull and protectiveness he felt towards _her_ that he could no longer deny. He forced himself to stop analyzing the simple touch and refocused on what Narcissa was saying.

“And, since I doubt anyone else has said it, congratulations. I know you hadn’t planned this, and certainly not with… well, not with her for so many reasons, least of all that she’s your student, but having a child is life altering in the best sorts of ways, Severus. And for what it’s worth, I think you will make a fine father. If there is _anything_ I can do for you or her, you have but to ask _me_.”

His expression softened and he gave her a slow tic of his head, her specific wording on the last intriguing him. “Thank you, Narcissa. I will keep your offer in mind and know that I appreciate it.”

She nodded and turned to go back to the drawing room. Severus headed down the stairs and out the front door at a hurried pace.

Two hundred and ninety-seven steps later he was at the main gate and apparating back to the edge of the grounds of Hogwarts.

\-----

Back in his own sitting room, Severus had a snifter of brandy in his hand, untouched, as stared into the fire lost deep in his thoughts. The evening had been both stressful and curious. The Dark Lord’s interest in the baby he had foreseen. Not that Severus deceived himself into thinking for one second that it was actually the baby he cared about but rather the puzzle of it all and always wanting to be in direct opposition to Dumbledore. Still, his orders to his Death Eaters took away one sphere of danger surrounding _her_ and his child and he admitted to himself that he felt more than an iota of relief over that.

No, what was curious was Narcissa’s reaction. Her words were too precise, too careful, and so very _Slytherin_. Narcissa would bear observing. She was perhaps not as committed to the Dark Lord as her husband and sister after all. On his side she could be a powerful ally, someone he might, _just_ might, be able to trust would help him keep Hermione and his child safe.

He stood with his brandy in hand and went to his desk in the corner. He pulled out a sheet of parchment and scratched out a quick note to her asking to meet tomorrow afternoon. They had much to discuss and _occlumency_ to practice. Their very lives depended on her mastering the skill before she faced the Dark Lord within the fortnight.

He sipped his brandy as the wax seal on the note cooled. When it was hardened he summoned a house elf and had the eager-to-please elf deliver it.

He finished his brandy after the house elf left and took himself off to bed wearily.

\-----

tbc...


	8. December - Fifth Year - Continued

 

The next morning the start of the weekend began with a cold, snowy morning which kept most of the students indoors. It made for a loud and boisterous breakfast in the great hall. A breakfast at which there seemed to be an extraordinary amount of mail being delivered to the Slytherin table. It appeared that every student whom Severus knew to have a parent supporting the Dark Lord received an owl. Not one of said parents would dare to not follow an order from on high directly from the Dark Lord himself.

“ _Good_ ,” he thought, “ _One less threat for the moment_.”

The Slytherins did their best, with some certainly better at it than others, to subtly study Hermione as she entered the Great Hall and sat at a random place setting to eat her breakfast among her fellow Gryffindors.

_She_ looked well this morning, her cheeks had a bit color and there wasn’t a circle under her eyes to be found.

Draco Malfoy seemed to be the most affected by his letter, his jaw clenching tightly and a sneer of loathing plastered on his face. There was ice in his eyes, even more so than usual as he looked over to the Gryffindor table. Severus wondered if Draco was going to be a problem. He knew that tormenting Hermione was a favorite pastime of Draco’s, even more now that he was brown-nosing Umbridge. Was the boy going to act like a petulant child whose favorite toy had been taken away? Would he dare disregard the Dark Lord’s orders?

Oddly, in direct contrast to Draco, Theodore Nott was looking surreptitiously at her with what appeared to be curiosity in his eyes and a contemplative look upon his face. Severus knew that the boy had little in common with his father save a name and Hogwarts’ house. Theodore was an intelligent, studious, and rational boy, one whose temperament should have seen him placed in Ravenclaw save for his surname. Severus made a mental note to keep an eye on young Nott thinking it just might be possible to save the boy from following in his father’s footsteps.

Severus was drawn away from his musing by Minerva who was sitting next to him. In a business-like manner she informed him, “I know you’ll be terribly disappointed, Severus, but Dolores won’t be joining us this morning, she’s been called away to an unscheduled meeting at the Ministry.”

The Dark Lord was nothing if not efficient and Severus was willing to bet that this “unscheduled meeting” was, in fact, the Dark Lord’s handling of the situation Severus had brought to his attention. Another flicker of relief filled his chest.

Since he could not tell Minerva about his meeting with the Dark Lord, he fell back to his patented dry sarcasm. “I will attempt to contain my disappointment.”

Minerva picked up her teacup with a snicker and replied, “You and I both, Severus, you and I both.”

\-----

The rest of breakfast passed without anything of note. Then Severus watched as Theodore Nott very subtly timed his exit from the Great Hall to coincide with Hermione’s. He hit the door first and politely held it open for her.

As she went through, with a slightly puzzled look on her face, she muttered, “Thank you,” automatically.

Nott, himself, did not say anything but nodded once at her before closing the door and blocking Severus’ view of any further interaction between the two. It was certainly odd on Nott’s part, but it did not feel threatening at all to Severus though it did serve to reemphasize his thought that Theodore Nott warranted watching.

\-----

Hermione didn’t know what to make out of Nott’s sudden good manners in holding the door for her, but she thanked him as she would anyone for the courtesy. When he nodded in return she became a bit more confused, none of the Slytherins were ever polite to her, most never even acknowledging her existence.

Her confusion reached its peak when Nott fell into step with her as she walked down the corridor. Conversationally he asked, “How’d you like that last Ancient Runes translation? Finally felt like a challenge, yeah?”

Hermione blinked, keeping her eyes straight ahead on the corridor as she tried to figure out what Nott was up to. Finally answering him she said, “It was. But I…,” she hesitated, not wanting to over share with the Slytherin.

“You what?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I was going to say that I enjoyed it. I like the harder translations.”

“Me, too. Did you use the older syllabary by Franzoi in the library as well as _Spellman’s Syllabary_?”

“I glanced at it but ended up using Reese’s _Runic Concepts and Connections_. The drawings are much clearer and I like how it’s organized. I’m putting it my list to look for in Diagon Alley over the holidays so I can have my own copy.”

“Hmm. I haven’t seen that one. I’ll check it out next time I’m in the library,” Nott said as they reached a junction in the corridor. He paused and Hermione didn’t exactly know why she did it, but she paused as well. He gestured the opposite way she was heading and said, “Well I’m heading off to play chess. Couple of us Slytherins and a couple of Ravenclaws have a little competition going. We play most Saturdays, losers from the week before have to bring the butterbeer.

Hermione _really_ didn’t know how to deal with this sudden friendliness from Nott. It was most peculiar. She decided to be courteous and play along. “Since you’re not carrying butterbeer should I assume you won last week?”

He grinned, again surprising Hermione. Gone was the Slytherin Pureblood haughtiness and he looked like someone friendly, someone fun and approachable, perhaps even someone she might have been friends with had circumstances been different.

Nott straightened his shoulders proudly and said with a smirk, “I haven’t had to bring butterbeer all year.”

Before she could say anything, the clock tower chimed and he said, “I’ve got to go. See you around, Granger.”

Keeping the moment light she replied with a nod, “Good luck and have fun.”

The two went their separate ways, with Nott heading for an unused classroom to meet his friends and Hermione heading back to the dormitory to get her books and notes to use as cover for the meeting this afternoon that Professor Snape had requested all the while trying to sort out what exactly had happened with Nott.

\-----

After spending the remainder of the morning studying in the library and then grabbing a quick bite of lunch in the Great Hall, Hermione was standing outside his office five minutes before the time he had requested to meet with her. Her mind was on the odd interaction with Theodore Nott. It made no sense at all.

She shook off the thought as she saw Snape making his way towards her.

She picked up her satchel and smiled at the stony-faced professor. “Good morning, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Miss Granger. Prompt as usual I see.”

They went inside the office, leaving the door open though Severus threw a strong privacy spell at it.

At his gesture she sat in the chair in front of his desk. She reached in her satchel and pulled out her notebook and a quill to use as cover should anyone interrupt them.

He settled himself in his well-worn chair and nodded at her preparedness.

“Sir, do you have any idea why Theodore Nott would suddenly start being… well, friendly towards me? No disrespect, but no one in Slytherin has ever even been polite to me before, let alone friendly.”

“Yes, I do, it is why I arranged to meet with you. You will undoubtedly start experiencing vastly different behavior from your Slytherin schoolmates as of this morning.”

“Has something happened?”

“I had an audience with the Dark Lord yesterday,” he said simply, not knowing how else to break the news to her.

She paled and swallowed nervously before asking in a near whisper, “He knows?”

Severus nodded. “Yes. And as I had foreseen, he is most intrigued by the situation. He issued a directive to all his followers that you were not to be harmed under any circumstance. He also ordered those with children here at Hogwarts to inform them of the same.”

“So _everyone_ knows?”

“No. Only a handful of his most faithful Death Eaters are fully aware of the situation, the rest know only that you are not to be harmed.”

She nodded and he could practically see the wheels spinning in her head. “Is V… _he_ angry about it?”

“No, quite the opposite as it may finally be a solution to the fertility and birthing problems Pureblood families currently face. He was, however, livid over the attempt to poison you and harm our child.”

She plucked nervously at the feather of her quill. “So what happens now, sir?”

“The Dark Lord wishes to see you in person. I’m to bring you to him on the next Hogsmeade weekend when your absence from the castle will not be noticeable.”

Her face went pale and she gasped. “So soon?”

“Yes. Which is why we will need to practice your _occlumency_ as often as possible between now and then.”

The thought of Voldemort rifling through her mind utterly terrified her. She had been working diligently on the _occlumency_ exercises but her novice self had little hope of keeping the most powerful dark wizard who ever lived out of her mind. _He_ seemed to have the utmost confidence in her ability to learn the difficult skill in such a short period of time, however, and it gave her the slightest bit of self confidence.

“I’ve been doing the exercises in the book and I’ve achieved the meditative plane quite easily, however, it was difficult for me to decide upon a sorting concept. The book suggests things like a corridor of doors or a dresser with many drawers, but I couldn’t get either of those to coalesce well at all.”

“It should be something familiar to you, something you can call up clearly without much active thought. It needs to be second nature to your mind.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully then asked, “Sir, may I ask what you use?”

For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer and that she had pushed for too much personal information from the private man. That thought was disproved a moment later when he replied.

“When I was first learning _occlumency_ I used the image of the Slytherin common room and all its nooks and crannies as hiding places as I knew it well. However as I progressed in my aptitude in the skill that image quickly became overly limited, finite, if you will, in places to sort my thoughts. So I then began using the potions’ class supply closet and its myriad of bottles and canisters. Why do you think that was a better choice than the common room?”

She turned that over in her mind, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth a bit as she did. Then it all came together for her. “Oh. I think I understand now. You can’t really rearrange or add onto the image of the common room, but with the closet you could easily add more shelves and more bottles.”

“Correct. If you think of the book’s examples of a hallway with doors you would be able to either simply add length to the hall or branches off of it as needed. Likewise, the dresser could gain more drawers and grow in size and shape.”

“So I need something familiar to me that’s easily brought to mind and that I can expand if I need to,” she replied absently, shifting through her mind for something that fit the bill. After a moment she met his eyes and smiled. “I’ve got it…,” but before she could tell him what it was he held up his hand halting her.

“Do not tell me, if it is strong enough in your mind I will see it. Now, close your eyes and go through the steps you’ve learned.”

She did as instructed without hesitation.

\-----

Severus regarded the earnest young woman in front of him as she began her attempt to clear her mind. More and more he was coming to appreciate _her_ logical, methodical way of thinking, which was in many ways similar to his own. Controlled by fact and process and not emotion both of them were able to conceptually distill the most complicated of mental exercises into its core components.

That she had closed her eyes and left herself completely vulnerable to him at his simple directive did not go unnoticed by him. _She_ trusted him in a way that no one ever quite had before. He tried not to let that damnable feeling of satisfaction creep up his spine yet again in the face of her trust, but was unsuccessful.

He could see the moment when her mind became clear as her face relaxed and she looked positively serene.

Softly, as not to pull her out of the meditative plane, he said, “I’m going to attempt to enter your mind, keep your emotions clear and stay focused on your mental image. Do not worry about ejecting me this first time.”

Her chin nodded a bit in acknowledgment. He raised his wand and cast _legilimens_.

He felt no resistance as he entered her mind, none at all, in fact, which was most unusual. When her mental projection coalesced he found himself in a library, more specifically, he found himself standing in the great domed reading room of the British Library. He looked around inquisitively, her level of detail was incredible. He saw her standing at one of the reading counters towards the center of the room, a large stacks of books next to her while she herself was occupied reading another large tome, her bottom lip again in her teeth.

He approached her and she looked up. “The British Library?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said simply then went back to gnawing on her lip, waiting nervously for his critique.

“I would have thought that if you were going to imagine a library that it would have been Hogwarts’.”

She shook her head. “I know this one better. Dad and I used to spend hours here every Saturday.”

He nodded. “It is a good choice.”

She straightened at his praise, relief evident on her face. He paced around the space and gestured with his hand. “All of these books will contain your thoughts. How you organize them will depend upon how your personal internal catalog works. The best use of _occlumency_ is not necessarily the forceful eviction of a _legilimens_ from your mind, but rather the skill of hiding the things you need to keep safe from detection while giving the _legilimens_ access to the things that do not matter. If you can do this well, the person penetrating your mind will be all but unaware that you are using _occlumency_.”

“I think I understand, sir, if you _only_ hide the most critical things and leave everything else available they wouldn’t have reason to suspect you are hiding anything at all, especially if you don’t resist them looking through it.”

“Correct. Now the challenge for you will be to determine what needs to be hidden and how to best do that without drawing attention to it in the process. I am going to withdraw from your mind and you may stop _occluding_.”

He pulled out of her mind gently and she opened her eyes.

“You did extremely well for your first effort, better than I did, in fact.”

She grinned and a slight blush bloomed on her cheeks. “Thank you, sir, it helps to have a good teacher.”

“Keep practicing so that your library is always in the periphery of your mind and you are able to conjure it and place yourself in it instantly. I will test you at random times without notice to check your progress this weekend. We will meet again on Tuesday evening to proceed to the next step.”

She nodded. “Sir, should we come up with an extra-credit project or something to explain why I continue meeting with you? Professor Umbridge isn’t going keep believing I need extra tutoring.”

He regarded her for a moment and thought about what she said. “While I do not believe that Umbridge will be a problem for us much longer as the Dark Lord is now aware of her annoying interference into our situation, perhaps you are right in suggesting a project. Do you have something in mind?”

“I was thinking about the medicinal potion base we had discussed, I know you said sixteen hours is the best rule of thumb, but do all the secondary brewing processes require the base to have full potency the entire secondary brewing time in order for the final potion to be effective?”

More Masterly level work from someone who hadn’t even sat her OWLs yet. That _she_ was able to converse so intelligently with him in his subject, her lack of practical knowledge not withstanding, was appealing to him as few and far between were the individuals with whom he felt comfortable doing so. The project she proposed would be a good way to outwardly excuse her spending time in his presence. He refused to let himself feel anything but professional interest in the idea that she would be around him more often but there was a little nagging sliver of enjoyment in the idea of spending time with someone who neither feared him nor was repulsed by him and that he could hold intelligent conversation with. He absently scratched his chin for a moment before answering her.

“That question will be the basis of your project. Expand upon it and outline how you will brew and test the potions in question. We can discuss it further on Tuesday.”

“Thank you, sir, I’ll have it ready for Tuesday,” she replied and started putting her things back in her bag.

She stood to go and he had a thought of offering her an apprenticeship, quite honestly something he had never considered doing for anyone since becoming a Potions’ Master. He asked her before he could stop himself, “Miss Granger, have you considered a Mastery in Potions?”

She stood and put the strap of her bag on he shoulder. “I haven’t decided exactly what I want to do in the future, sir. Potions is on my list of potential careers as is healing, which is where my parents seem to hope I’ll end up, but I just don’t know. And… well… the baby complicates things. I don’t know if I’ll actually be in a position to commit to a Mastery.”

He didn’t miss the small frown that she tried to hide.

“I assure you that I will fully support you and our child in any way necessary. Should it become an issue we could perhaps hire a nanny or a house elf so that you will be able to finish your schooling here and pursue the Mastery of your choosing.”

“You would do that for me?” she asked softly, hesitantly.

“Yes,” he answered simply, feeling something warm unfurl in his gut at the little grateful look _she_ gave him, a something he pointedly refused to acknowledge. Where _were_ all these confounded emotions coming from?

“Th…thank you, sir. Not just for that but for everything you’ve done. I know this situation is stressful and dangerous, especially given your position in the Order, and I promise I’ll do everything I can to not add to that.”

He nodded in response, not entirely knowing what to say to that as _her_ guileless concern for him was still such an unexpected thing, and stood as she made ready to leave. When she reached the door he spoke again, warning, “Be careful with the Slytherins. Even though the Dark Lord has put the highest value on your safety, it may not deter all of them.”

“I will, sir.” And with that she left.

\-----

As Hermione headed back to the Gryffindor common room she was lost in her thoughts- of _occlumency_ , of Snape’s offer of support so she could finish her schooling, and most certainly of the terrifying notion that she was going to be face to face with Voldemort himself. It was all a bit overwhelming if she were honest with herself.

She passed a pair of first year Slytherin girls in the corridor and it brought her thinking back to Theodore Nott and their strange encounter. She knew better than to take any of the Slytherins at face value, but something was telling her that his friendliness was genuine.

She shook off all her conflicting thoughts as she walked and worked on clearing her mind. Upon reaching the first floor she paused near a window and closed her eyes, letting the vision of her library fill her mind. It was even easier to accomplish the second time around. She pulled herself out of it, leaving it lurking around the corners of her mind.

Her thoughts had moved on to her Arthimancy homework that she wanted to get started on when she reached the common room. She patiently waited for the this staircase, then that staircase to move themselves into position. She had just reached the fourth floor and was waiting for the stairs to the fifth to shift back into place when she smelled something rather foul. She wafted a hand in front of her nose thinking that someone had to be setting off stink-bombs again when she was suddenly very woozy and her brain muddled. She tried to shake it off, thinking she perhaps needed a snack and some water when she saw the stairs to the fifth floor finally slide into place. She shifted her book bag on her shoulder and took her first step up the flight of stairs.

Only there were no stairs and she was falling, her mind still befuddled and not able to get her wand out in time to help herself.

It was lucky for her that someone else saw it happen and a confident male voice shouted, “ _Arresto Momentum_!”

She landed softly four floors down and looked up to see pair of carefully pressed black trousers, a deep emerald cashmere jumper, and a familiar, though completely unexpected, Slytherin face standing over her.

She tried to sit up but the wooziness overcame her and she couldn’t manage it. Her brain kept telling her that none of this felt right or natural and she tried to remember what she should do about it.

Her savior yelled at another Slytherin to go get Snape and the girl took off at a run towards the dungeons. He then crouched down and asked in his ever-posh voice, “Granger, you all right?”

“I don’t feel so well,” she replied even as her uncooperative brain was refusing to remind her what it was she was supposed to do.

“Lie still. You don’t look right. Professor Snape is coming.”

A sharp cramp filled her abdomen and the pain brought crystal clarity to her mind. She struggled to get her necklace out of her jumper, her fingers weak and fumbling.

She frantically looked up and croaked out, “Poison. Need my necklace.”

His sure fingers found the delicate chain around her neck and tugged the pendant out. He watched with interest as she clumsily stuck it in her mouth.

As it had the first time Dumbledore had tried to poison her and kill the baby, Snape’s antidote countered the poison and color returned to her cheeks. Her thinking was still out of sorts though and that worried her.

A swirling mass of black fabric filled her vision and it was sudden Snape’s familiar face she was looking up into.

The other crouching figure stood back up and proceeded to tell Snape what had happened even as Snape was running diagnostic spells to ensure she and the baby were okay.

Snape’s worried eyes met hers and he asked, “Did you eat anything once you left my office?”

She shook her head. “Was fine till the fourth floor stairs, there was a bad smell, now I can’t think so well.”

“It’s type of a _confundus_ charm. It should wear off soon, but we’ll let Madam Pomfrey look you over in the meantime,” he said as he picked her up in his arms to carry her to the hospital wing.

He had taken a couple of steps when she said, “Wait. Just a second, please.”

Snape paused and she turned her head to face the young man who had saved her life and the life of her unborn child.

The tall, handsome Slytherin took a step towards her and waited for her to speak.

Her words were simple, yet completely heartfelt. “Thank you.”

He nodded once in acknowledgment and Snape turned to continue heading to the hospital wing. Over his shoulder he said firmly, “We will speak on this later, Mr. Zabini.”

\-----

She wanted to feel safe, and she did at the moment lying against Snape’s chest as his long stride carried them to Madam Pomfrey. But outside of Snape’s protective presence could she ever be safe in the castle?

_He_ was tense and angry. She could feel that in his arms and by the harsh set of his jaw. She would be too once the cloud in her head went away.

Dumbledore had tried to end her pregnancy _again_.

\-----

tbc...


End file.
